


Hooked

by Connamer



Category: Parahumans Series - Wildbow
Genre: F/M, Mind Control, Prostitution, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-09
Updated: 2020-10-15
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:42:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 33,185
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26903839
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Connamer/pseuds/Connamer
Summary: Power matters in a world of heroes and villains, and sometimes what you have isn't enough.  But there are always ways to get stronger.Even if there is... a cost.
Comments: 22
Kudos: 67





	1. Rune: First Session

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first attempt at a work of smut not inspired by another writer, and my second overall. I'm not 100% on the premise, or the execution for that matter, but hey, who cares? Here it is. Enjoy it or don't at your own discretion.

Appearances mattered in the Empire Eighty Eight.

They mattered for a lot of reasons. They mattered because a unified front prevented attacks from the outside. They mattered because looking strong prevented challenges from the inside. They also mattered because the guys at the top only handed out the good territory and missions to those that seemed like they could handle them.

Point was, they mattered. Looking good was important. Holding together a crew, not getting caught up with the white hats too much, and most importantly winning fights. It all _mattered_.

But now... Fucking now...

Another crossbow bolt whistled in, causing Rune to duck back behind the dumpster she was using for cover, just a bit too slow. If the bolt had been aimed better, she might have lost an eye. And she couldn't even see where it had been shot from. Somewhere down the alley, high up on one of the fire escapes, probably. But she wasn't sure. Another bolt came in seconds later, clanging off the metal dumpster, causing her to flinch, and she barely held in a squeak of surprise.

_This fucking bitch!_

“What's the plan, boss?” Big Jimmy asked, duck-walking up beside her, his eyes flicking around, looking for their attacker.

“You shoot the slut or I squash her, whichever comes first,” she spat.

Big Jimmy glanced at her for a moment, lips pursed. “Whatever you say, boss.”

She almost growled. It was a shitty plan, if it could even be called one. He knew it. She knew it. But it wasn't like she could tell the truth, that she had no fucking clue what to do. And it wasn't like he could call her on it. A regular member – even a blooded one – just wasn't allowed to question a cape.

The worst part, though, was that she couldn't ask him for a better alternative. Not now. Stupid on her part, since he was more likely to know what to do than her. Stupid on his part, for asking her what to do rather than making a suggestion himself.

But what was done was done. Crying over it wouldn't change it.

Another bolt came in. Closer this time, since she could hear the twang of the bowstring. She ducked, more out of instinct than anything, and it was good that she did. When she brought her head back up she saw half of the bolt sticking out of the dumpster right about where her shoulder had been. The cunt has phased it right through.

“Fucking bitch!” she shouted, but the hero didn't respond. Didn't make herself a target, either, since neither Big Jimmy nor any of the other guys took a shot. It was depressing. One-sided. It wasn't why she'd been called in. She was suppose to be the backup, not need it herself.

Damn it, she needed to do something about this!

“Fuck it,” she said, reaching out to punch Big Jimmy in the shoulder. “Gimme some cover fire.”

“You sure?” he asked, but she was already moving, scrambling away from the dumpster in a crouched, awkward run, moving toward one of the wrecked cars she'd flown in with while Big Jimmy and his crew filled the alley with gunfire.

She'd hoped, coming in, that all she'd have to do was to drop a few of them from high enough up that Shadow Stalker wouldn't get any warning and get squashed, then use the others to ferry the guys out before the cops of the heroes showed up. It hadn't worked. The alley was too narrow, with a shit-ton of fire escapes, power lines, or other industrial-looking crap between the buildings, and the cars had made a hell of a racket on the way down.

Enough that not only had Shadow Stalker managed to use her power to avoid a fatal crushing, but she'd even used it to sneak up on Rune herself and kick her off her mount. Right into the fucking dumpster, which she'd then proceeded to pepper with crossbow bolts.

It had been humiliating. But even worse, the shock had made her lose her connection to all the cars, and they'd fallen all over the place. Most had landed on one roof or another, but a few had landed in the alley.

She slid behind one just ahead of another bolt. It was on its side, like most of them that had made it to ground level, and she quickly got to work, tracing her runes along the underside. Glowing light sparked off her fingertips and sank into the bare, rusted metal, spreading out until it was nearly invisible even in the dim light coming into the alley from the street.

Then the car started to lift off, slowly, so god-damned slowly. It crept upward at what seemed like a snail's pace, even though she knew it wasn't all _that_ slow. But in the middle of a fight it sure fucking felt it.

A few more gunshots echoed out, loud and brash enough that she ducked down despite herself, her already hammering heart picking up again. They were followed by the smack of booted feet on concrete, running away from her.

Had Shadow Stalker tried to sneak up on her while she was working, and she hadn't even noticed?

“Shit!” she hissed, scrambling away, running for some new cover, and hopefully some new ammunition.

“Sorry boss!” Little Jimmy shouted from further up the alley, giving her a wave. “Almost got-”

He cut off with a scream, falling back behind his cover with a bolt sticking out of his arm.

_Well, better him than me I guess._

The car was most of the way up now, out in open air above any lights that might illuminate it. But she could still feel it. Not like it was a part of her, but pretty close. It was tough to explain, or even to understand herself, but it was working for her now. She started to change the car's orientation, moving it to hang nose-down in the air, to give it the least chance to hit something when she dropped it again.

Another choked scream sounded out, and she snapped her eyes to Big Jimmy. He had a bolt sticking out of his thigh, and he'd dropped his gun to wrap his hands around it.

Above him, on the lip of the dumpster, was Shadow Stalker herself, all dark cloak and crouching menace, with a crossbow aimed straight at Rune.

_Oh shi-_

She didn't have time for any more before the bolt took her in the chest, and white pain slammed through her, taking her to the ground and momentarily making the world disappear.

She grit her teeth, kicking her legs to scoot backwards, toward the brick wall of the alley. She braced herself against it, clawing her way up to a sitting position. She tried for more, tried to stand, but it was impossible. She flopped back down, back against the wall, and raised her eyes.

Shadow Stalker was standing in front of her, looking down at her. A gunshot rang out again, but it just passed through her, sending bits of her cloak floating away like smoke, just for a second, before reforming.

“You're kinda shit at this, aren't you?” she asked, her voice coming out muffled and indistinct from behind her mask.

“F-fuck yourself, cunt,” Rune spat. It made her chest hurt worse, and she bit her lip to hold in a scream.

“No, I mean it,” the bitch continued. “I was hoping for more, but you really are just a one-trick pony. Dropping cars on me didn't do shit, and your only idea was to try again? Kinda pathetic.”

“Yeah,” she replied. “O-one trick this!”

While Shadow Stalker had been talking, the dumpster behind her had been rising up, slowly and silently, and now it came toward her. It wasn't fast. Not by a long shot. But it moved quicker sideways than it did going up, and half a ton of steel was half a ton of steel no matter the speed it was moving.

Shadow Stalker ducked into a roll, moving out of the way with contemptuous ease. She didn't even turn to look at it.

The dumpster hit the wall beside Rune with a crash the stung her ears, cracked the bricks, and shook her enough that she nearly passed out from the pain.

When it was done she just lay on the ground, panting in short, shallow breaths, covered in sweat. She couldn't feel the car. She must have lost it, even with how hard she'd been trying to hold on.

“Really pathetic,” Shadow Stalker said as she stalked into sight. She crouched down beside Rune, using the dumpster to keep out of sight of the others. So at least she wasn't entirely bulletproof. Probably. That was something, little though it helped right then. “You actually thought I'd let you sit behind cover that long and _not_ think you were gonna use your power on it? Please. I should shoot you again just for thinking I'm that stupid.”

“Th-th-then fucking-” she stopped, desperately trying not to cough.

“Fucking do it? That what you were gonna say?” Shadow Stalker asked.

Rune just glared at her in response.

“Well you're not that lucky,” the bitch said. “I want some information, so you're coming with me. Once I get what I want, you can-”

She didn't get any further before the ground started shaking. Her head snapped up just an instant before an enormous spear swept the dumpster away, and a lightning-quick followup strike slammed down toward her.

Shadow Stalker dodged like smoke, flowing away before reforming down the alley. She ducked a third sweep, let a fourth pass through her, and then she was gone, invisible in the gloom.

Menja stood in the middle of the alley, more than twenty feet tall even crouched in a combat stance. She filled the space, her silver armor shining in the dim light, a towering vision of fury in boobplate and an armored battle skirt.

Rune let her head drop to the alley floor, her vision filling with scattered tin cans and garbage.

“Fuck,” she muttered.

A while later, when it was clear that Shadow Stalker had really fled, Rune found herself sitting in the bed of a pickup truck, a regular-sized Menja tending to her. Rune's robe had needed to be cut away, since the bolt had pinned it to her chest, and her street-clothes underneath were probably a write-off too, covered in blood.

It was out now, gleaming and bloody beside her, but still. It hadn't been a fun half hour.

“Well, you're lucky,” Menja said, her voice low but more than a little mocking. “Seems like it didn't penetrate much. Got stuck between your ribs. Shows Shadow Shitter for using hunting heads meant for big-game on humans, I guess.” She grinned. “Still, she shot you right in the tit. That's gotta suck.”

“Not my favorite thing in the world,” Rune said, her voice almost a whisper. Even with the best painkillers it still hurt like hell.

Menja patted her on the back, just a bit too hard to be friendly. “Well look on the bright side. Once you pop out some brats you can nurse three at a time, now.”

“Hah, hah, fucking hah,” Rune said, her face screwing up into a bitter expression.

“Oh relax, you'll be fine,” Menja said, shuffling away and grabbing some packets of wet wipes. She broke them open and started washing the blood from her hands. “We'll get Othala over to your place tomorrow morning and she'll have you fixed up in time for school.”

“Joy.”

Menja snickered. “So, how'd you manage to get your ass kicked so badly?”

Rune winced. That right there was the crux of it. She couldn't explain, not really. Admitting she got outplayed by a single cape wouldn't go over well. She couldn't just say she made a mistake, either, even if she'd made more than a few. She was new to the E88, but not  _that_ new. Honest excuses never went over well. All they got you was contempt and a command to 'do better'.

How the fuck was she supposed to do better? The shadow bitch was too fucking fast.

“Well then just be faster, I guess,” Menja said, giving her a little shrug as she tossed the bloody wet wipes into a plastic bait box.

Fuck, had she said that out loud?

It was probably the painkillers.

Still, it was an opening. “How the fuck am I supposed to do that, huh? My power's my power. I can't exactly ask it nicely if it'll hurry up for me.”

Menja gave her a look. It was hard to read, since Rune couldn't see more than her eyes behind her fully-enclosed helmet, but she thought it was calculating. But what she was calculating was another matter. Was she thinking of a way to screw Rune over, or deciding if she was worth helping?

“Well... there are ways, you know,” she said, eventually.

Rune blinked. “Really?”

Menja nodded, her eyes still on Rune, still calculating. “Really,” she said. “But there's always a cost.”

“Fuck the cost!” Rune burst out. “If it'll get me enough power to get revenge on the black bitch, I don't care about the cost!”

Menja nodded again, more slowly. “Alright, if you say so. But you've got to promise me that this doesn't go beyond the two of us. This sort of thing is... shady, you know? It wouldn't go over well if it got out. You'd be... silenced.”

Rune made a quick 'zip' motion across her lips.

“Alright then, on your head be it.”

Menja hopped out of the bed of the truck and walked around to the passenger side door. Rune craned her head to watch, but the older villain just rummaged around in the glove box for a minute before pulling out what looked like a pamphlet or something.

She handed it to Rune, who quickly flipped it open and started reading. But she stopped almost immediately, her eyes widening. Her head whipped toward Menja, spearing her with a glare.

“You're fucking with me.”

“No,” she said, shaking her head. “It's true. I've... used the service myself, once or twice. It's the real deal.”

“Bullshit,” Rune spat.

“Cross my heart,” Menja said, crossing her heart. “On my honor, it's real.”

“Bullshit,” Rune repeated.

“It's up to you whether to believe it or not,” Menja said. “I've done my part. And, for the record, that is probably the _smallest_ price you'll ever have to pay for a power boost. Everything else is worse.”

“Fuck it, let's just go,” Rune said. Menja nodded, then walked around to the driver's side, got in, and started the truck.

Rune didn't drop the pamphlet, though.

8=====D~~~~~#(.)(.)#~~~~~C=====8

Appearances mattered when you worked as a superpowered gigolo.

They mattered for a lot of reasons. They mattered when trying to put a client at ease. They mattered when attracting a client in the first place. They also mattered because not many women wanted to fuck an ugly guy. Not even if they got a power boost out of the deal.

Point was, they mattered. Looking good was important. The right hairstyle, good teeth, toned body. The right clothes, especially. Even having the right smell. It all  _mattered_ .

And I? Man, I looked good.

I finished combing my hair, still a bit damp from the shower, and leaned in toward the mirror to give it a once-over. Medium length, not too long, not too short. The kind of cut that appealed to almost everyone without looking too styled. Just enough highlights to bring out the natural light brown color without seeming artificial.

Women, I'd found, didn't really like guys to put too much effort into their appearance. Or at least, they didn't like them to  _look_ like they put the effort in.

Working out was the same. I took a pose, flexed a bit. I had muscles, of course. But they weren't too pronounced, and there was just a bit of softness to them, not quite as cut as they could be.

Just right, like the hair. Attractive, eye-catching, and seemingly all natural despite all the hours I spent in the gym.

Of course, I was also a bit lucky. I'd always been pretty tall – though not  _too_ tall – and athletic in a sort of trim, understated way. The sort of body that when a client asked about it I could just laugh it off and say I'd done sports when I was younger.

All in all I hadn't had to do too much catchup work when I started my new... career.

I left the bathroom and sauntered into my bedroom, pausing to look around. It still caught me off-guard sometimes, just how nice it was. It wasn't exactly a penthouse suite or anything, but it was still worlds away from where I'd been living less than a year ago. I'd traded scuffed floorboards and concrete walls for shag carpet and dark, gold-patterned wall panels. A bare mattress up on cinderblocks had been supplanted by a king-sized four-poster and silk sheets.

The changes to my wardrobe were, if anything, even more drastic. Out of necessity as much as choice. Clothes made the man, after all, and that was even more true in my profession than in most.

Because honestly? As much as women hated a man to look like he spent all his time primping, they really despised one that dressed like a slob.

Of course, much like how my bedroom was still far from a penthouse, my wardrobe wasn't overflowing with Armani suits, and I didn't have a box full of Rolex watches. But I had enough, and enough for every occasion.

Today I was meeting a new client and from my research she seemed pretty young, as well as pretty new to the scene. Formal dress, or even business casual, would probably be off-putting. Really, it'd be best to forego a tie entirely, especially since the meeting was at my place rather than a bar or restaurant.

At first it had seemed a bit weird to me that women – and girls – would want to meet someone like me alone, in my own place. But I'd quickly realized that capes weren't like most people, that threat of danger just wasn't the same for them as for other people. And more, most of them had secret identities to consider.

Still, of all my first-time customers, only about a third chose my place for their first appointment.

Even so, jeans would probably be too casual. I was pretty sure that...

I stepped over to my desk and flipped to my calendar, checked the name.

I was pretty sure that Rune would be in costume, which lent a certain air of formality, or at least seriousness.

Well, I had some nice corduroys, and given that it was the fall a sweater probably wouldn't go amiss. Brown and green went together well, and had a nicely non-threatening feel to them. Add in some accessories – a belt and watch were a must. Women noticed those things, even if they thought they didn't – and some leather Oxfords and it would hopefully strike that nice balance of looking successful without looking like a pretentious douche.

Last, of course, came my mask. Nothing fancy, really. Just a silk domino mask in a brown that accented my hair and went with most outfits, though it had some nice gold stitching around the edges.

It did its job, being a fig leaf for my nearly non-existent secret identity and a security blanket for my often high-strung clientele.

In the end I was finished dressing in plenty of time for the appointment, and by the time the buzzer rang I was just lazing around on the couch in my foyer, fucking around with my phone.

I answered the door to find Rune in full costume, as expected. A red robe with black stitching all over, forming various patterns. Runes for Rune. That brought a smile to my lips, and she took a step back.

_Well, could be worse._

“Hello,” I said, keeping my voice even and a bit quiet. “I'm Hype. You're Rune, I assume?”

“Yeah,” she said, but that was it. She didn't add anything, or make a move toward or away from me.

“Come in?” I made sure to make it a question, stepping out of the doorway and gesturing inside.

“Yeah,” she said, stepping into – but not through – the doorway. Her voice had a bit of a waver to it. It was cute. There was always something appealing about young, nervous capes. Powerful but unsure. My smile widened a bit, and I hoped she assumed it was because she'd agreed to come in.

“I understand that you're probably nervous,” I said. “It's perfectly natural.”

As I'd hoped, she took it more as a challenge than a comfort and squared her shoulders, stepping firmly into the foyer. She was too small for it to be a legitimate stomp.

“So, this is where we'll... do the deed?” she asked, looking around. Her eyes settled on the couch for a moment, before flicking over to me. She sounded skeptical, which was no surprise.

My foyer, despite the nice leather couch, wasn't very high-class. Pale carpeting, slightly stained, a front desk with nobody manning it, a few old office chairs, and grimy front windows. My place, which I couldn't describe as a house or even really a home, had been converted from an office building some time probably before I was born. I'd... set up shop there – squatted, really – and spruced it up as much as I could, but the only really nice room was the bedroom, and most of that had been there when I'd found the place.

“No, this is just-” I paused, then gestured to the couch. “Take a seat?”

She huffed at me but did it, walking across the room and throwing herself on the couch. She crossed her arms angrily and lowered her head far enough that I couldn't see anything under her hood, but at least she sat. I wheeled over an office chair and sat across from her, far enough away that I wasn't in her personal space.

“Okay,” I continued. “As for this room, call it reception. Somewhere to talk for a bit, get to know each other.”

“I don't _need_ to know you,” Rune said, raising her chin a little, and I could hear the sneer.

I just shrugged. I'd had worst first meetings. “That's fine too,” I told her. “However, I find that a certain level of... mutual understanding at this point helps things along, and prevents misunderstandings down the-”

“Oh shove it,” she snapped, jabbing a finger at me. I frowned. I didn't enjoy being cut off. But I held my piece and let her continue. “We both know what this is. You-” she paused for a second, her finger drooping. But she rallied, jabbing it at me again. “You do... what you do, and I get a power boost. I don't need you to sweet-talk me or sing me a love song or feed me chocolates as the sun sets or any of that bullshit.”

I nodded along with her until she was finished. Honestly, despite her being more aggressive than most, I'd had clients rant at me a lot longer than that. Still, the anger made me think she wasn't as sure of this as I'd hoped. She was on the couch, though, and that was what mattered. Once a client was on the couch I almost always sealed the deal.

It was part of why I kept the foyer as scummy as I did. It gave them a chance to back out if they were going to. If someone was going to balk halfway through and want out, that could cause problems. Especially since a woman that suddenly changed her mind once my dick was in her was a lot more likely to change it violently.

I knew. I had the scars.

Much better to put up a bit of a sleazy front and get them to turn back at the door.

“Well,” I said once I was sure Rune had calmed down. “That's kind of my point right there. This isn't just about setting a mood. It's also about managing expectations.” I paused a moment to see if she wanted to jump in, but she didn't, just slouching into the couch with her arms crossed. “From our correspondence I get the feeling you want something more... clinical, am I right?”

“If that means I want to get this over with and get out of here, you're exactly fucking right,” she said.

“It does mean that, to some extent,” I told her, and she grunted, not quite amusement. I pointed to one of the doors that didn't lead up to the second floor – and my bedroom – but deeper into the building. “That way is what I'd call the... I guess the operating room. Its setup is pretty sterile, which I think should suit you well enough for this visit.”

“This is the _only_ visit, just to be clear,” Rune said. “I don't want-” She paused again, and clenched her fists. “I just don't. Can we just do this and be done?”

“If that's what you want, then sure, we can do that,” I said, planting my hands on my knees and pushing myself upright. “Just go down the hall, it's the second door on the right. You've read the instructions I sent you?”

“Yeah, I know how this goes,” she muttered, standing up more slowly than I had. She started toward the door, but turned back after a moment. “You're not coming?”

I shook my head, ignoring the double entendre. “No, I'll join you in about five minutes. You can wash if you want, or do whatever else you need to prepare yourself. And just know that if you change your mind, you can just leave. If you're not there when I come in, then we just both go our separate ways and never speak of this again. There's no pressure.”

“No pressure, yeah fuckin' right,” she muttered. “I wouldn't even be here if there was no pressure.”

I just shrugged. “Afraid I can't help you with that.”

She took a breath, then blew it out, obviously steeling herself. “You can help me by making my power stronger. That's it. Just... five minutes. Be there.”

I nodded but didn't say anything, gesturing for her to go ahead. She did, and once she was gone I left the foyer by another door, ending up in what I was pretty sure had once been a security room. It was near the entrance and had a bunch of old, dusty TV screens on the wall, so I had no idea what else it could be.

I turned one of the screen on, and it blinked a few times before resolving into a curved, almost fish-eye view of the operating room.

It was, as I'd told Rune, very clinical. I'd modelled it after a doctor's office, with stuff I'd 'salvaged' from an actual doctor's office, all white and sterile and dull, centred around a padded massage table. Rune's black and red robe stood out sharply, like it didn't belong.

Which it didn't, I supposed. The room  _was_ for fucking, one way or another, and there was a full nudity clause in the contract I'd sent over.

Another roadblock, of course, to make sure the less determined pulled out before things could get ugly.

And, honestly, because I enjoyed watching women strip on CCTV cameras. But that was secondary.

Now that Rune was alone, she was more willing to show how nervous she actually was. In her case, that involved clutching her hands together and looking around with quick, jerky motions of her head. She moved over to one of the cabinets along the wall with nervous steps and yanked it open, recoiling from the shelves full of lube, condoms, and other sex-related paraphernalia.

I had to chuckle at that. It should have been obvious to her.

Still, nervous and flustered or not, she remained undaunted and kept up her examination of the room. The other cabinets held similar stuff, though she once again jerked back when she found the more BDSM-oriented stuff. Not that it got much use in that room, but I always thought it paid to be prepared. You really could never guess what a women would be into.

However, the room wasn't very big, and she quickly exhausted anything to search through, leaving her nothing to examine except the padded table in the middle of the room. The purpose of it was obvious, of course, and she couldn't fail to miss it, which explained why she'd done her best to ignore it until her circuit of the room was finished. Now, with nothing else to occupy her, she walked around it, poking at it or trailing her fingers across it. Her gaze settled on the mask sitting on the middle of the table for a moment – a twin to mine, except red instead of brown – before she turned around sharply, putting her back to it.

My grin widened. I always enjoyed this part. She was committed, now. She knew what was going to happen and she'd resolved herself for it, but the worry wouldn't go away. It left her to become more and more worked up, a combination of dread and anticipation fluttering inside her. And lust, too, no matter how much she didn't want to admit it.

A girl didn't book an appointment with a gigolo and _not_ want sex on some level, even if a power boost was the main reason for it.

_Now the only question left is- Ah, there she goes._

On the TV, Rune stepped over to the cabinet marked 'costume storage' and yanked it open, then started pulling her robe over her head, bunching up the fabric in her fists and yanking on it, almost as if she was angry with it.

That was a bit of a surprise. Part of the reason I left women on their own to wait for me was to give them a chance to back out. But if anything a bigger reason was to see if they'd strip before I came into the room or leave it until after. I always felt it told me a lot about them, one way or another.

Seemed like Rune had been honest in her desire to get things over with. And maybe a bit more determined than I'd thought.

Taking off the robe was honestly more of a production than I'd expected and she struggled for a bit. The reason, I eventually saw, being that she had a  _lot_ of hair under it, and it got everywhere as she finally finished yanking the robe off. That done, she shook her head, long, golden hair cascading over everything.

One of my eyebrows rose. She had great hair. It shined, almost shimmering in the bright overhead lights, flowing all the way down her back, over her hips, and nearly to the floor.

Really, it might have been some of the best hair I'd ever seen.

That done, she stuffed the robe messily into the costume closet and spun around, her hair trailing her in a dramatic wave, to grab the mask off the table and shove it onto her face. I turned away as she did. Secret identities didn't matter much to me, but it was more the principle of the thing.

With the sex mask on she took another deep breath, more slowly, then deliberately blew it out before going back to her frantic, artless undressing.

It wasn't sexy, or at all practiced, but there was an appeal to that too. It wasn't a show, but it was honest. I could easily see her doing the same at home, after school or before bed. It was... intimate, in a way.

Her shirt came off first. A blue, collared t-shirt that looked like it was probably her regular street-wear. She took it off the same way she had her robe, bunching the fabric in her fists and yanking it over her head, shaking and pulling to get her hair through the neck hole. It left her with her hands above her head for a while, her face masked by the fabric, twisting and turning.

I liked it. It gave me a good view of her tits – modest little things, obviously still growing – nestled in her small, white bra. There wasn't much bounce to them, bound up as they were, but the play of muscles in her belly and shoulders more than made up for it.

Rune was more athletic than I would have expected. I'd known she was slim, since even a full robe couldn't hide that sort of thing, but still. Damn. I approved.

The bra was the next thing off, the clip at the back clumsily undone, then the whole thing tossed into the closet along with her shirt and robe. Her nipples were small and pink, innocent little knots sitting on top of her pale, swelling breasts. She didn't give me long to look at them, though, quickly bending down to shimmy out of her leggings.

They, like her top, were blue, though a darker blue, and not quite as form-hugging as the workout leggings or yoga pants that were popular at the college these days. But they weren't quite as baggy as sweatpants, either. More practical, maybe. Worn for comfort and utility, and probably less likely to get caught on the robe than jeans or shorts.

She stepped one foot out of the leggings, then kind of charmingly kicked the other at the cabinet, flicking them off her foot to join the rest of her clothes.

I stood up, reaching into my pants to adjust my dick, which was already reaching half mast. The five minutes weren't quite up, but my patience was quickly reaching zero, and it wasn't like there was a clock in the room anyway. She wouldn't know if I showed up thirty seconds too early.

A quick trip down the hall, my strides long and impatient, and I had the door open just as Rune was pulling down her panties.

White and plain, like her bra, I couldn't help but notice.

Her eyes shot to me as the door opened, wide and more than a little frightened behind her mask, her pupils dilated.

I did my best to school my expression, and I very deliberately didn't smile. No need to worry her with a great white shark impression just yet.

“It's been five minutes,” I told her, my voice maybe a bit too eager. “Are you ready?”

She didn't answer, frozen in a half-crouch, one hand covering her breasts, squishing them to her chest, and the other still holding the corner of her panties. She had one leg cocked, knee sticking out, up on her toes. I couldn't help but stare a bit, my eyes trailing down the very pale, very smooth-looking skin, all of it partly covered by the messy curtain of her wonderful hair.

Her legs, like her arms, were slender and a bit overlong, but with just a hint of muscle to give them definition.

She swallowed, her face going red to her ears, the blush slowly spreading down her chest. Then she continued the movement I'd interrupted, sliding her panties off and then carefully, slowly, turning around and placing them with the rest of her costume. She kept her eyes on me the whole time, watching me over her shoulder. It was a contrast to the careless speed she'd used before I'd come in, almost like she was afraid that if she moved too fast, or took her eyes off me, I'd jump her.

I didn't mind. I was too busy examining her back. People could say what they wanted about tits and ass, but to me one of the sexiest parts of a woman was her back. The way Rune stood, with her slender shoulders slightly hunched, a bit bent over as she still shielded her chest with her arm, it pulled her shoulder blades apart, just a bit. Her muscles were tense, too, standing out just slightly and giving the recess of her spine that little bit more contrast. I wanted to trail my finger down it, hear her gasp and see her shiver. But I didn't. I had to content myself to just looking for now.

My eyes trailed down further, past her trim little waist, to the swell of her hips. They were wider than her shoulders, though still a bit slender with youth. Just right for resting my hands on as I pulled her toward me, but that too was for later. Her ass was small but tight, and it looked firm, accentuated by the way she had her knees together defensively. Still developing, like the rest of her, but so, so tempting.

And man, that thigh gap. Unf! If she'd tilted her hips toward me just a bit I was sure I could have seen her pussy on full display.

That was always great, though less common than I'd like.

“Like what you see?” she asked, and I blinked, bringing my eyes back to her face. She was sneering at me, her chin up, challenging.

I smiled at her, carefully not showing teeth. “I do. You're very beautiful, Rune.”

She blushed deeper at that, looking away from me, unsure again. “Well, you-” she started, then stopped, swallowing quickly. “You're not-” she tried again. Finally she steeled herself, turning toward me fully and bringing angry eyes up to meet mine. “Get naked, bitch.”

I didn't respond with anything but a grin, quickly getting to work following her order.

Unlike her, though, I didn't strip in a comfy, natural way. I made a show of it. It was part of the job, after all.

Like her, I started with my top, carefully pulling off my sweater in such a way that it pulled my undershirt up, showing my abs, and I made sure to keep my arms in view, tensing them a bit more than needed, showing off.

Of course, my attention was only half on what I was doing. I'd undressed in front of enough women now that I could do it on autopilot. Most of my attention was on Rune, following her reactions. I didn't even have to hide it, given that from the moment I started, her eyes were on my body, ignoring the rest of me.

It was always gratifying, seeing the way a nervous girl – and probably a virgin – started eye-fucking me the moment I showed a bit of skin. Another one of those contradictions I loved. A conflict between propriety and desire.

And she did desire me, I could tell, even if she still wasn't sure she wanted to. The way her eyes went wide as my undershirt came off, roaming up and down my chest and abs, to the way the arm covering her tits dipped down, forgotten, giving me a peek of her pretty pink nipples going hard on her creamy little breasts.

Whether she admitted or not, to me or to herself, she'd been thinking of this from the moment she decided to send me the first email.

I kept going, slowly undoing my belt, and her thighs started to rub together. She'd covered herself with her free hand the moment she'd turned to face me, but I could still see hints of pale blonde bush, sparse and wispy, and the fingers of her hand curled in a bit, just barely not touching herself.

I met her eyes as I bent down, pulling off my pants and underwear at the same time, and this time her brows furrowed, but she didn't look away.

Then I straightened up, revealing my cock in all its half-mast glory, and she sucked in a breath.

“I'm really doing this,” she whispered, quiet enough that if we weren't so close together in such a small room, I wouldn't have heard.

“We are,” I confirmed, shifting my stance slightly and grinning at the way her eyes followed my cock, locked in on it as it swayed. “How do you want this?”

She didn't respond, still staring. She swallowed again, more wetly this time.

“How do you want this?” I tried again, a bit louder, and she jumped in surprise, gasping a bit.

“How- What?” she asked.

“How do you want this?” I asked again. “Slow? Fast? Do you want to get right to it, or try for some foreplay?”

Her mouth worked for a moment as she came back to herself a bit. “Right,” she muttered, drawing herself up and turning to the sex table, then stepping toward it. “Let's do this. Just... fast. Do it from behind. I don't want to see- Fuck.” she shuddered slightly, still turned away from me. “Let's get it over with.”

“Whatever you want,” I said, stepping over to her. She tensed even more as I neared, and flinched when I put a hand on her shoulder.

She was shaking slightly, not quite enough to see, and her skin was hot and smooth. I could imagine her heart beating a mile a minute at all the emotions conflicting inside her. I wanted to run a hand through her hair, cup her cheek, press myself to her back, but she was strung too tight. It would be counterproductive.

Still, she let me push her down, gently bending her over to rest chest-down on the table, her butt sticking up slightly, her knees a bit bent, thighs still pressed together. When she was all the way down, her breathing sped up. Not quite a lustful pant, and not quite the rapid, shallow breaths of panic, but close to both. I took a moment to look at her, the way her hair spread out everywhere, flowing down her back like a silken veil, parting around her upturned ass, then swirling around her legs.

It was gorgeous.

“Just relax,” I told her, my voice low and as gentle as I could make it. “It's fine to be nervous. Now, I'm going to rub a bit of lube into you, to make this easier. Alright?”

“Okay,” she said in a little voice, still face-down on the table, partly muffled by the padding.

I quickly got the lube, dipping my fingers into the tub and rubbing them together, warming it up.

While I did, I stole another glance at Rune, admiring her. The way she was bent over the sex table, with her knees together, it gave her ass a perfect heart-shaped profile, flaring out at the waist, then tapering down into her legs.

I could smell her now, too, the faint, musky scent that always came before the act, barely hidden under the scent of lube and nervous sweat.

My dick hardened further, and I grinned. It knew what was coming.

“Well? Get- get on with it,” Rune stammered, her breathing hitching again.

“Just warming up the lube,” I said, stepping back toward her and kneeling down behind her, bringing myself to her level and getting my first good look at her pussy.

Pretty was the best way to describe it. An innie of the best kind. Pale pink, unspoiled, and just barely open, a thin, smooth gash in her otherwise milky-white skin. It was clearly unshaven, but still nearly bald, with the only hair being on her mound, a wispy clump of silky blonde. Ungroomed, untended, and clumped with sweat and arousal, but still fresh and innocent. Rune's slit quivered a bit with her hard, rapid breathing, and with the way her leg muscles twitched in worried anticipation.

I took in a deep breath through my nose as I watched a single clear drop of liquid roll out and drip to the white tile floor.

I probably shouldn't have gone so slowly, since I could see the wait was killing her, but anticipation was meant to be savoured.

Still, I had a job to do.

I laid one hand gently on Rune's waist to stabilize her, relishing the way her breathing caught and she tensed up, muscles going tight and shivering under my hand. Then I carefully, slowly, began to touch her. One finger at first, running up one side of her slit, then down the other, carefully avoiding her clit. It wasn't time for that, yet. Maybe not at all, today.

Despite my slow, gentle pace, and the fact that the finger wasn't even inside her yet, Rune tensed up, gasping in a breath and holding it, pulling against my stabilizing hand. But her body was confused, unsure if she wanted to pull away, or to push herself toward me, get more of what I was giving her, and she ended up doing nothing but squirming, her face pushed deeper into the table's padding, hands gripping the edge hard enough that her knuckles went white.

Then, the next time my finger finished its circle, I pressed in, still gentle, not forcing her open, but inexorably entering her, and she let out a loud, startled squeak, almost a scream.

Well, scream was probably too strong a word, as muffled as the sound was, but it was close. A noise full of frustration, fear, shame, and want. I'd heard it a million times, but even so it did what it always did, and my cock finally reached full mast, rock hard and twitching.

But it still wasn't time, and I kept my pace, working my finger deeper into Rune's pussy, just a fraction of an inch at a time, sliding in, then working around in a slow circle, before continuing, inching toward her depths.

It was necessary, more than with most of my clients. Rune was  _tight._ The combination of athletic muscles, fear, and her sheer freshness conspired to make her insides cling hard to my finger, the smooth, silky,  _wet_ flesh sucking at it, unwilling to let it go.

I hooked my finger then, dragging it against her, rubbing into her folds, and she screamed again, in shock and surprise, her whole body going rigid, tensing up for an instant as a tiny spray of juice squirted out of her.

Not an orgasm. Not yet. Just... a moment of unexpected intensity.

It still left her panting as I pulled my finger out, the sucking flesh letting go with a wet 'pop' that caused Rune to jerk again, flushing with shame as well as arousal.

I would have told her not to worry, that sex always made some... undignified noises, but I doubted she was in a mind to hear it.

She muttered something into the bench, too low for me to hear.

“I'm sorry? I didn't catch that,” I said.

“I said enough,” she replied, voice shaking. “Enough of- Just enough. Just do it. Just f-fuck me. I can't. Can't take-”

She cut off again, smooshing her face into the bench, and I held in a chuckle.

“Alright,” I said, pushing myself to my feet and lining my cock up to her slit. I had to bend my knees a bit to manage it. She had nice, long, slender legs, but she was still a lot shorter than me. “Try to relax. It makes things easier for both of us.”

She muttered something else, and I thought I caught more than a few curses, either at herself or at me.

Even with my warning, she jumped again when the head of my cock touched her. I didn't try to push in right away, or to rub it against her or anything. I just rested it there, pressing lightly against her, giving her a chance to adapt.

It took her some time, but I wasn't about to complain.

Once her breathing steadied a bit, I pressed it in a tiny bit, and she tensed up again. Again, I didn't force the issue, just enjoying the way her pussy squeezed and fluttered, waiting for her to relax and adapt.

Once again, it took some time.

That was the way it went, me invading her a fraction of an inch at a time, her reacting with tense fear, then both of us taking some time to cool off. Rinse and repeat.

It felt like forever, but the further it went, the more her panting got ragged, the pleasure of being split open and filled up finally getting to her, and her already soaked pussy got steadily wetter, making the next small, gentle push that much easier.

Honestly I probably wouldn't have even needed the lube, but it had been a necessary excuse to get my finger in there first. To test her out so I didn't hurt her by accident.

Eventually Rune's hands clenched into fists and her hips started shaking and grinding, just a bit, barely enough to make her ass jiggle. Her feet planted themselves more firmly against the tile floor, and her legs straightened, hips tilting, back bending to raise her ass higher. I wasn't sure if she was even aware she was doing it, or if her body was moving by instinct, but either way it was hot as hell, and i couldn't held but respond in kind.

For the first time, I drew back, pulling out instead of pushing further in. Just a tiny bit, but enough to add some rhythm to the act, matching the rocking of her hips, lengthening and deepening my strokes by tiny degrees, my dick still steadily moving forward, further and further.

It worked. I could see her getting more into it. The way her breathing got deeper, less shallow but more desperate the more of my dick she took into her. Her sex was reddening now, the pale flesh flushing with blood, swelled up just a bit, getting a tiny bit puffy. I longed to go harder, to slap my hips against her, to see her ass quake and ripple, to hear her gasp and moan.

But, I reminded myself once again, this was her first time. I had to go slow.

It was hard, though. So hard, when every instinct in my body cried out to make her scream. To pound and ravish her, carve her pussy into shape around me.

Fuck.  _Fuck_ . I wasn't even halfway into her yet! I wanted more!

I resisted. Kept going slow, rocking back and forth, my hands on her slender, shaking hips now, thumbs meeting at the base of her spine, highlighting her heart-shaped ass, pulling her toward me.

She helped, up on her tip-toes now, legs straining for more height, to get herself closer to me. Moving with me almost unconsciously, letting me straighten up myself, really brace myself.

Finally, Rune let out her first moan, soft and quiet, face still pressed to the bench. She tried to suppress it, but I heard. I took a risk, taking a hand off her hip and running it down her back, causing her to gasp and arc into me even more. I did it again, fingers running through her glorious hair. It still astonished me how good it looked draped over her, swirling around her legs and dancing in time with my thrusts.

“Oh god,” Rune moaned, or at least I thought she did. I was hard to tell, as muffled as she was.

Even so, I took it as license to pick up the pace, moving into her deeper, pulling out faster.

The noise started then, as we accelerated toward each other, sucking pops and the slapping of wet flesh rising in time with Rune's breathing, and my own.

I could feel her heartbeat now, deep inside her. It pulsed, and mine pulsed with it, harmonizing together. Instinctively I timed my thrusts to it, a counterpoint, and finally we began to truly come together.

It was a spiral. Her reddening pussy, yielded and split open fully now. Her ass, taut globes of so-white flesh, jumping and shaking. Her back, curved in a perfect bow, veiled in gold and flaring toward her slender hips. Her long, long legs, thin and soft, with steel underneath, tight and straight as she strove to take more of my thrusting cock. All of her, and all of me.

We came together, and came apart, in and out, thrusts lengthening now, truly fucking her, forcing everything into her, then taking it away.

She pushed back at me, gasping and wanting, aching for more but refusing to beg, still holding it all in despite the betrayal of her body.

I heard it anyway. 'More. More. More'. Not from her mouth, but from the rest of her, from the way her pussy clenched so tight at the end of every thrust, refusing to let go, sucking at me, desperate for me to stay inside her every time I pulled back.

I could feel myself swelling up inside her, cock twitching, begging to release, and even there she responded, a full-body blush that spread through her, concentrating in her sex, all red now, swollen and leaking, her bush drenched in it, squeezing and quivering more and more, harder and harder. Her body clenched in sympathy, going tighter and tighter, her moans stretching out, getting louder, unable to be restrained anymore.

It wasn't natural.

It was power. My power.

It took us to pleasure beyond what was possible, connected us more deeply than was safe, or even sane.

It was a spiral. Down and down, twining into each other, feeding off each others' pleasure, so much that I wanted to scream, wanted it to stop, wanted it to go on forever.

Then, at the bottom, we met. Truly met, together, as one.

I yanked Rune's hips toward me, digging into her with my fingers, and thrust myself into her entirely, all the way to her deepest depths, bottoming out inside her. That was where it happened, hidden from the world in her most private, secret place. Only for her. And for me.

Her head leaped up off the bench with a choked gasp of surprise, eyes gone wide, white all around, pupils huge but totally unseeing, mouth set in an 'O' of shock at the intensity of it all, drool dripping down her chin.

I was no better. Around us the world faded, leaving me nothing but the silky, clinging, white-hot depths of Rune's pussy, wrapped around me like a vice so tight I thought we would fuse together and never come apart.

That, and her power.

It was tiny, but enormous, reaching out with questing fingers of light, trailing over me – over  _us_ – and lifting us up. It was control and freedom at the same time, constrained by unbound. A cage that opened the sky to us.

And there, in the depths, connected in a way I couldn't begin to explain, I erupted. My power left me in a flood, a rampaging torrent of blazing light that filled Rune up, flowing into all the cracks and crevices of her being, of her _soul,_ even as my cock erupted inside her, pumping and straining to fill her womb with my seed.

It was bliss, and light, and fire, and totally beyond any kind of explanation. I came with my dick and my power, and with my whole body, shouting and roaring, grabbing Rune hard enough that I knew she'd bruise, and I didn't even care. Sweat poured down both our bodies, pooling around our feet and staining the sex table.

I couldn't stop, didn't want to stop, as I pumped load after load into her, enough that it felt like she should be swelling like a balloon. And she clearly wanted it as desperately as I did, pressing back against me with all her strength, babbling and gasping and squirming, struggling with her entire heart and soul for one more drop of cum, drool pouting down her chin like a fountain.

Then, we hit the peak, and Rune simply  _wailed_ , shaking like a leaf, every muscle clenched, every fibre of her being consumed as she came, and came, and came. Totally beyond any kind of thought or reason as the last of my orgasm filled her to the brim.

I have no idea how long it went on. I've checked, before, and the clock always tells me that the enormous peak only lasts a few minutes. But no matter how I try to rationalize it, it always feels like hours. Like years. Like something beyond time. An eternity together.

Eventually, I came to on the floor, leaning up against the wall. Rune was, as expected, still out of it, slumped over the bench with her arms and legs hanging limp, her hair all pooled around her, drenched with sweat.

The way she lay, legs splayed and loose, I could see her pussy, still gaping and red, our mixed cum and juices dribbling out of her, far more than a human body should be able to produce.

My cock twitched, rising up slightly, but I ignored it.

She wasn't panting, and she'd apparently passed the phase of mindless, moaning bliss, so I must have been out of it longer than normal, which made sense for a first-time fuck. They were always... not the most intense, but the most...

Connected. That was a good word. She was the most herself, brought the most into the mix.

It was one of the reasons I tried so hard to bring in new clients, despite the constant risk. It wasn't like I needed the money anymore. No, what I wanted was something... deeper.

And Rune had given it to me.

I grinned as I watched her dripping pussy, as it slowly, so slowly closed back up into a neat, tiny little slit, as the redness drained away, and she came back to herself.

It was always a treat, even if the polite thing to do would have been to leave her to get cleaned up. But in this, I let myself be selfish.

By the time she was able to move her arms and legs again, even if they were still shaky and uncoordinated, I felt strong enough to stand. I did, my own legs shaking a bit, and made my way around the bench, kneeling down and looking Rune in the eyes.

She raised her head to meet my gaze, still shaky and weak, eyes blinking and pupils blown out and huge. Her hair hung around her like a halo.

“H-Hype?” she asked, voice rough and wavering.

“I'm here,” I told her. “How do you feel?”

Her lips curved into a smile, the first I'd seen on her, tired and full and satisfied.

“I feel soooooo incredible,” she whispered. “I never thought, never knew...”

She trailed off, eyes closing in a memory of bliss, and hummed, a low sound of fulfilment.

I reached out to cup her sweaty cheek, and she leaned into the touch, her smile going a bit wider. Her skin was so soft. I indulged myself, rubbing her cheek, her neck, and her shoulders with both hands. She let me, still too out of it to realize what was happening, humming and cooing, pushing back against me, almost lovey-dovey.

Eventually she came to more fully, and pulled away from me, blushing. Neither of us spoke after that, just helped each other get clean and get dressed. Her touch on me was hesitant, then, but gentle, and for every time she pulled back with a blush and looked away from me, or down at her feet, there was a moment where she would run her hands over me, or lose herself staring.

In the end dressing took almost as long as the sex had, but we still finished and Rune made her way to the door. Slowly, reluctantly, with more than one glance back toward me. I didn't say anything, and neither did she, though she clearly wanted to. Eventually she pulled open the door and left, letting it swing shut behind her.

When she was finally gone, the sounds of her footsteps receding down the hall, I took in a deep breath, breathing in our mingled scents, and looked around.

The room was a mess, of course. I'd need to clean it before my next appointment, just in case. Generally only first-timers wanted the clinical room, but you never really knew.

My eyes flicked to a counter along one wall for a moment, and I smiled in satisfaction. A small stack of bills rested here, slightly askew. My payment, or at least the payment I advertised.

Generally I didn't make a big deal out of it, especially for first-timers. Honestly if Rune had forgotten to pay I'd have been even happier. It would have given me a reason to contact her again, get the ball rolling on the next appointment.

Still, it didn't really matter.

She would, I knew, be back again. They all came back.


	2. Shadow Stalker: First Session

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one got a bit out of hand, length-wise (rimshot). I probably could have trimmed it down more, but whatever. It's smut. Being an indulgent wank is kind of the point of it.

Awareness mattered when you were alone on the streets.  
  
It mattered for a lot of reasons. It mattered because you needed to be able to pick up the smallest details when trying to tell a homeless man from a disguised gang member. It mattered because you needed to be able to notice the little tells that showed that the cops or PRT were onto you. It also mattered because when you were on your own, it was the only thing that stood between you and disaster.  
  
Point was, it mattered. Knowing your shit was important. Keeping an eye on the gangs, not getting caught breaking the law, and most importantly knowing how to pick you battles. It all _mattered_.  
  
But now... fucking now...  
  
Another chunk of ripped-up concrete roared in, causing Shadow Stalker to instinctively shift her form, her body jerking with unnatural stillness even as she dived to the side, heartbeat and breathing ceasing as she took on her shadow form. It didn't help. The mass of masonry diverted itself to smash through her, ripping her in half in an explosion of shadowy smoke. She came back together, but her momentum was gone, and she stumbled, caught flat-footed as her body lurched to life again.  
  
 _This fucking bitch!_  
  
She didn't have time to complain, let alone counterattack, before the next projectile was inbound. The engine block of a car, curving down through the air toward her. Dodging hadn't worked so far, but she tried again, waiting until the last minute before rolling under it. Or rather trying to. It diverted itself again, turning on a dime to pound into the pavement in a thunder of breaking metal and concrete.  
  
Again, if she hadn't gone shadow right at the last instant, she'd be dead. As it was she again lost her momentum as her power drew her back together, coalescing into shape just in time for yet _another_ projectile to smash through her, ruining the effort.  
  
It had only been a week! How the fuck had this bitch got so good in a week!?  
  
She'd hoped, coming in, that it would be an easy extraction. Find Rune while she was patrolling her territory, shoot her a couple of times, then drag her off for a quick interrogation before the cops or other E88 capes showed up. It hadn't worked. Somehow the fucking _cunt_ had noticed her before she could shoot and had a shield ready to go, blocking her bolts.  
  
Worse, she'd managed to pin down one of Shadow Stalker's weaknesses.  
  
Almost nothing could hurt her in her shadow state, but at the same time she could do almost nothing. She was a vapor, if one that held to the shape of her body. Any kind of physical attack passed right through her. She could ignore a cruise missile with the same ease she ignored a handgun. Anything she wore or held was affected too, as long as it was close to her. It let her carry as much gear as she wanted, as well as taking advantage of her cape to ride updrafts or glide over long distances. It was why she used a crossbow, too, because the bolts would shift back to solid form once they left the bow, meaning she could attack without anyone being able to fight back.  
  
If she timed it right and got close enough she could even pass the bolts through things before they went solid, appearing on the other side still travelling at full speed. Or solidifying partway through if she was feeling nasty.  
  
But her power did have downsides. Thankfully Rune hadn't figured out all of them. If she'd had a taser or even some pepper spray things could have gone... badly. Or worse, at any rate, because they were already _bad_. Because she _had_ figured out that Shadow Stalker's momentum carried over when she switched forms, and she'd exploited it in the simplest way possible. With a giant fan.  
  
It had been humiliating.  
  
The fight had only gotten worse from there, and Rune had chased her through her territory and beyond, all the way to the warehouse district near the old trainyard. She'd hoped that even if the bitch kept following her then the close confines of an old warehouse would give her enough of an edge, like it had in the alley the last time they'd fought.  
  
So far no luck.  
  
Another chunk of concrete – or the same one again – came in at her, and she faked to the left then darted to the right. For once it didn't follow quickly enough and plowed in a stack of crates, sending them flying in a shower of splinters and a massive cloud of dust.  
  
It gave her enough time, finally, to make some distance. She took advantage of it, rushing to a dusty, ancient forklift and rolling behind it, panting hard.  
  
For a moment nothing happened. No new attack came and the only sound was the patter of broken wood falling to the floor of the warehouse.  
  
Slowly the dust cleared, and Shadow Stalker peeked around the side of the forklift, her eyes scanning and ears straining for any hint of Rune, crossbow gripped white-knuckle tight in her fist.  
  
The first thing she saw was the light sweeping around the dark warehouse, tracking her. A floodlight, she knew, presumably with its own battery. She'd put out a few just like it early in the fight. It swept over her hiding spot and she quickly ducked back behind it, peeking out again once the light had passed.  
  
Behind it, difficult to see past the glare, Rune floated, crouched on top of a fucking _boat_ of all things, though a fairly small one. Beside and around her were new bits of ammunition, and she was absently tracing patterns on them as she searched for Shadow Stalker. As she watched, another one took off, a lump of twisted, rusty metal that might once have been a generator. Above her was that fucking fan, a five-foot-wide piece of aluminum siding, waving gently up and down. The lazy motion was a trap, though, and she knew that it could dart down in a flash to intercept any bolts she shot, or start waving to blow her around if she went shadow.  
  
That was, of course, if Rune noticed her.  
  
Again the light washed over her, and again she ducked away from it. Once it was gone again she burst into motion. Not to attack, though. No. Frontal attacks were too easy to predict and counter. Attacks from below were no good either, since the boat protected Rune from that angle and she moved it too erratically to properly phase a shot through. Plus if she got that close any counterattacks would be much harder to escape.  
  
Of course that didn't mean she _shouldn't_ get close. Just that she shouldn't approach from below.  
  
Early on, before she'd realized how much of a fucking pain in the ass Rune was going to be, she'd tried the same trick she'd used to start their last fight. Sneak up close, drop onto her ride, and kick her off. Hadn't gone well. But that had been outside, where street lights and the night sky had made her easier to see.  
  
In a dark, enclosed warehouse, with the only light shining down at the ground? Different story.  
  
She rushed away from Rune's searchlight, toward one of the big metal I-beams that supported the roof, and started to scramble up it. It wasn't easy, and without her power she wouldn't have been able to do it. As it was she was able to grab on, and – as quietly as she could – throw herself up it, shifting to shadow for a moment to let her momentum carry her upward, then shifting back to grab on before repeating the process. A series of long, gliding hops more than a climb.  
  
It still took some time, and while she was working her way up Rune apparently started to get bored.  
  
“Hey! Shadow Shitter! You still here or did you run like a fucking coward?!” she shouted, her yell punctuated by the smash of more crates as a huge tire – probably off a transport truck – spun through them.  
  
“What was it you said last time?! One-trick!? Well fucking look at yourself now! All you can do is run and fucking hide! Pathetic!” This time it was her former cover, the forklift knocked over and pushed across the concrete floor in a shower of sparks as the rusted frame of a car rammed into it.  
  
“Yeah, really pathetic! Isn't that what you said to me!? Well fuck you! Who's pathetic now!?” The I-beam she was climbing rumbled as more projectile pelted the floor, smashing themselves apart and shaking the entire warehouse.  
  
Shadow Stalker kept her nerve, calmly finishing her climb and crouching on one of the cross-beams that connected the big I-beams to each other, just under the roof. Rune was still a fair distance away, and not really moving in her direction. A leap from her current perch _might_ reach, but at the same time it might not.  
  
She ignored Rune's increasingly triumphant, increasingly arrogant, and increasingly annoying ranting, as well as the occasional rumble as the warehouse took more and more damage, and snuck along the metal beams. She kept her movements quiet and stayed out of her shadow form, wary of the occasional wind that swept through in the wake of Rune's tantrum.  
  
Finally she reached her destination, staring down at Rune in her red robe, her chest heaving in anger, fists clenched at her side, looking this way and that, still searching for her.  
  
Shadow Stalker's mouth curled into a grin behind her mask, and she knew it was a predatory one.  
  
Honestly, was there much better than dropping onto your prey from above? The surprise, the panic, and the sudden fear? It was amazing.  
  
Her fall was silent and swift, and she pulsed her shadow form just before landing, cloak flared out to slow her descent. She landed in a crouch, a phantom that didn't even rock the boat.  
  
But somehow, fucking somehow, Rune noticed.  
  
She whipped around, flicking her hands out, and Shadow Stalker barely shifted back to shadow in time to avoid a spray of gleaming ball bearings that leapt at her as if they'd been fired from a shotgun.  
  
And once she was shadow, the fan was there.  
  
It flapped once, and the gust was heavy enough to blast her off the boat, her form blurring at the edges as the force of the wind tore at her.  
  
It flapped again, and she accelerated, rushing toward the warehouse wall, then blasting through it in a cloud of shadow, emerging on the other side in a slow drift, desperately holding her shadow form as her entire body shivered with the pain of the passage.  
  
She eyed the ground below her as it slowly approached. Rune had blasted her through the wall above the parking lot. There wasn't much cover out there, except for maybe around the loading bay, and she was still over thirty feet up. A fall from that height... might be possible, if she shifted right before she hit, like she had falling onto the boat. It was risky though, given the distance.  
  
But it might be a chance.  
  
In the end Rune didn't give her the option as she emerged into the night sky, a section of the warehouse roof tearing away from the building to herald her arrival.  
  
It split apart as she ascended, tearing itself into useful-sized pieces as Rune glanced around, eyes locking onto her with startling speed given the gloom and the her shadow form's wispy darkness.  
  
“Found you, bitch!” she shouted, and the pieces of roof converged on her with startling speed. But Rune didn't use them to attack as she had before, didn't attempt to batter her into submission or smash her to a pulp.  
  
What they did was way, way worse.  
  
They fanned her, from all angles, blowing her wispy form all around, tumbling her through the air in a chaotic frenzy that ripped her body to tattered shreds of shadow and spun her around until she couldn't tell which way was up.  
  
And the whole time, Rune was ranting.  
  
“Make me look bad in front of the grunts,will you! Well fuck you!”  
  
In the desperate spinning, she could see the glittering lights of downtown, passing frighteningly far below her, moving fast.  
  
“I had to have Othala heal me, you cunt! And of course you know Victor was there! How would you like it!?”  
  
The lights passed away, lost behind her, and the lower, gloomy lights of the Docks replaced them, along with a single snatch of a bright line of light, followed by darkness. The boardwalk, and the ocean.  
  
“And it didn't stop there! All of them! Fucking all of them! They knew! They knew what you did to me!”  
  
Off to the side there was a dome of pale rainbows in the dark sea. The Rig. Protectorate HQ. Then just darkness.  
  
“Shoot me in the tit, will you!?! Shoot me! In the tit! WILL YOU!?!?”  
  
The last was delivered at a furious screech, and finally the battering wind abated, letting Shadow Stalker drop her shadow form and leaving her sore, panting, and covered in sweat beneath her heavy autumn costume.  
  
It took her a moment to orient herself, to realize where she was, and when she did her heart sank.  
  
Rune had blown her out to sea, literally. She was resting on a chunk of roofing, hundreds of feet above the dark ocean, far enough from shore than the city was just a line of lights on an otherwise black horizon.  
  
That... was bad.  
  
Really bad.  
  
“Well?” Rune asked eventually. “Nothing to say for yourself, skank?”  
  
“I'd say-” Shadow Stalker started, but broke off to cough. “I'd say you're a vindictive bitch.”  
  
Rune laughed at that, long and hard. The sound was breathless and wild and totally unrestrained, on the edge of insane.  
  
Well, it wasn't like Shadow Stalker hadn't been there a time or two herself. But she, at least, had managed to hold in the maniacal laugh.  
  
“Oh I'm that,” Rune said. “I'm that for fucking days. I'm so fucking vindictive that if you _beg_ me, maybe I'll let you go with only broken legs.” She paused, tapping her lip. “And an arrow to the tit. Fair's fair, right?”  
  
“I don't beg,” Shadow Stalker said.  
  
Rune huffed out another laugh, quieter than before. “You sure about that? I'm not gonna give you another chance until we're at three or four broken limbs.”  
  
“You think you can manage that? Haven't been doing a good job so far.”  
  
“Well, it's that or take the long fall,” Rune said. “Seems like an easy choice to me.”  
  
“Yeah,” Shadow Stalker said. “It is.”  
  
With that, she rolled to the side, dived off the section of roof, and fell.  
  
Rune's furious, indignant scream followed her down, and she heard the whistle of huge projectiles chasing after her, but she'd taken her too much by surprise, and the response was slow.  
  
She fell, arms and legs curled up, tight with fear as she watched wide-eyed the dark sea that rushed up to meet her. Without Rune's spotlight she wouldn't have been able to judge the timing, and would have risked going shadow too soon and maybe being caught up in a windstorm again, or too late and dying on impact.  
  
As it was she went shadow at the very last second, passing into the water without a splash, the shock of impact almost ripping her back to her regular form. But she resisted, holding her shadow form as long as possible while she watched huge objects smash the ocean into a froth around her, pounding down again and again in a furious rhythm.  
  
It was hard. She didn't breathe in her shadow form, but she still needed oxygen. Normally she took it from the air around her, but water was a different matter. Too thick, too _real_ , even if it didn't force her back to solidity with the same force that solid objects did. Soon enough she began to feel the pressure, the need to breathe, to shift back, to do _something._ But she knew that it would only lead to her death if she did it too soon.  
  
She had to wait.  
  
Just long enough.  
  
But _God_ was it hard...  
  
Eventually, either through the current carrying her away or Rune drifting off-target, the spotlight moved away, focusing on some other patch of endless water, and she relented to her power, letting herself begin to become solid again.  
  
It hurt. It was slow. Forcing the water out of her form took time, far more time than displacing the air normally did.  
  
But it hurt less than the time she'd done the same inside a solid wall, and in seconds she was whole again and thrashing her way to the surface. If anything it was harder to hold her breath on the way up than it had been to stall her transformation, and her lungs burned, vision going dark at the edges before she finally broke the surface with a gasp.  
  
For a while she just floated, heaving in great lungfuls of air, keeping an eye on Rune with one eye as she did.  
  
Eventually the villain gave up, flying off with one last furious screech, leaving Shadow Stalker alone, at night, miles from shore.  
  
She heaved a sigh and got to work. Her crossbow was already gone, and she couldn't remember where she'd dropped it. Probably back at the warehouse. She'd check later. In the meantime she unclipped her cloak, letting it float on the water next to her, then took off her mask, letting it sink down into the bay, followed by her belt of emergency tools. Losing them stung, but if she was going to survive she needed to remove any source of drag she possibly could. She was exhausted, and despite her heavy autumn costume she was already shivering in the frigid water.  
  
But Rune had made one mistake with her trap. Shadow Stalker wasn't afraid. She wasn't prey. She was aware of her limits, and a swim that would kill almost anyone else wasn't past them. It was close, but she was confident.  
  
She started to swim.  
  
Eventually, hours later, when the sun was just peeking up above the horizon behind her, paining the tips of the hills red, she flopped onto the beach north of the boardwalk, crawling up past wrecked, moldy boats and scattered driftwood and other garbage, until she was out of the waves.  
  
Then, finally, she let herself flop down and rest her burning limbs.  
  
She wasn't sure how long she stayed there, heaving panting breaths and starting up at the lightening sky, but eventually the cold started to reassert itself. She couldn't stay out there in autumn, soaked by sea spray until she got hypothermia.  
  
She'd made the swim, but that didn't mean she was safe.  
  
Slowly, her arm aching and her hand numb, she rooted around in the pouch at the small of her back. This wasn't the first time she'd lost a fight, and it wasn't the first time she'd ended up in a bad place after one. Hell, it wasn't the first time she'd been soaked and half-dead on the beach. She was prepared.  
  
Eventually she found her backup cellphone, safe in its waterproof ziplock bag. She pulled it out slowly, lips forming a snarl as her hands didn't want to obey her. After a few fumbles, she managed, and flipped it open, dialling a familiar number with painstaking slowness.  
  
She needed a pick up, and then...  
  
Then she'd figure out how Rune had gotten so fucking _strong_. And when she did...  
  
Well, Rune wasn't the only vindictive one.

8=====D~~~~~#(.)(.)#~~~~~C=====8

Awareness mattered when you were a superpowered sex worker.

  
It mattered for a lot of reasons. It mattered because you never knew who might try to rat you out to the cops or the PRT. It mattered because you needed to pay attention to opportunities to get new clients. It also mattered because it was too easy to miss the signs that a girl was going to be trouble.  
  
Point was, it mattered. Knowing your client mattered. Knowing when to push boundaries, knowing how hard to push them, and most importantly knowing when to lay back and let them take the lead. It all _mattered_.  
  
And I? Well, I might not always get it right, but I came close.  
  
I finished sliding my car into its tight, downtown parking space and turned off the gas, before stepping out and staring up at the fading light left in the sky. Most new clients seemed to want to meet in the evening, or at night. Something I was entirely fine with, of course, but still just one of those things I noticed. Returning clients were less discriminating, but of course I knew the reasons for that.  
  
Tonight I was meeting my client in a club, out of costume. It was far from a first, but still didn't happen often. Especially not with a first-time client. It usually took at _least_ two or three appointments before a girl was willing to reveal her secret identity to me. I wasn't nearly as bothered of course, since I didn't have a secret identity to speak of, but that wasn't really the point.  
  
Well, it didn't really matter to me either way.  
  
I took in a deep breath of the crisp fall air and hooked my thumbs in my pockets, sauntering down the street. You never park near the club, after all, and as always I did my best to arrive early.  
  
A few blocks later and a few twists and turns down smaller side-streets the club came into view. 'Club Quicklove'. I knew it. I'd met a couple clients there, and while I wasn't aware of the club having any connections to either the cape scene or sex work, I still wondered at the name.  
  
Club Quicklove was, like a lot of the semi-shady clubs that catered to the high school and college crowds, had the entrance in back rather than facing the street. I ambled around the building, aware of the rising sound of excited and sometimes angry voices.  
  
It was early in the evening but the line was still long, and I skipped it by passing the bouncer a fake ID and a real pair of twenty-dollar bills. I got the ID back, but not the bills. I ignored the angry catcalls as I entered, sauntering inside with my thumbs still hooked in my pockets. I'd done this before.  
  
The entry hall had mirrors on the walls and ceiling, and I gave my reflection quick once-over before heading in. When dressing for a club, most people think of going as flashy and as obvious as possible. It makes sense, of course. With the flashing lights and pounding music – which I could already hear, even with two doors between me and the dance floor – it was hard to get noticed, so people wanted to give themselves the best possible odds.  
  
And, credit to them, it usually worked. At least if they were good-looking enough to pull it off. But of course, if you were good-looking enough people would notice you no matter what you wore. So most of the time flashing some cash got a lot more looks than a fancy outfit or expensive shoes.  
  
I, of course, wasn't here for a tryst, or at least not for a random one. I didn't want the attention that most sought from a night out clubbing. So while I still dressed to impress, it wasn't flashy. Just a nice white dress shirt, with the top buttons popped and the sleeves rolled up to show just the right amount of forearm, and dark blue chinos.  
  
Giving my reflection a satisfied nod, and my hair a quick tousle, I headed inside.  
  
The intensity of the music ramped up instantly, enough that I could swear my vision blurred for a second, and I took a look around. The dance floor was only half-full despite the line outside, but the people on it were probably the best-looking and best-dressed the club would see tonight, getting their exclusive use of the place before the rabble were let in. The bar was, of course, empty, but by the time the place started filling up I knew the current dancers would be occupying it, getting their second wind – chemically or naturally – before getting back into the fray.  
  
As for my client, I didn't expect her to be here yet, and while it would be fun to take a few rounds on the dance floor it would also be rude to waste my energy when I had a job to do. So I skirted the dance floor and the bar both, moving toward the stairs in the back. The upstairs balcony generally wasn't used so early in the night, but that just meant I'd be easier to see when my client arrived.  
  
Upstairs the music was a bit muffled, but not by much, and I slid into one of the booths furthest from the stairs. A couple of the club staff eyed me as I went, but I just smiled at them and they left me alone. I had, after all, done this before.  
  
I made myself comfortable, settling in for a wait, then blinked, my phone half out of my pocket.  
  
A girl was in the booth with me.  
  
I blinked again, looking them over. Young, high school aged for sure, though I didn't have much room to talk there since I still couldn't drink legally. She wore a black leather jacket over a purple t-shirt, and tight black leggings. Her skin was a shade darker than milk chocolate, and she had fine features and a slender neck. Her hair was clearly straightened, tied up in a sporty ponytail. As far as I could see she didn't wear makeup, and definitely didn't need it.  
  
Her eyes were, to say the very least, fierce, and her full lips were set in a frown.  
  
This was, unless I very much missed my guess, my client.  
  
Shadow Stalker.  
  
“Well hello,” I said, my lips turning up in a smile to match her frown. “I thought I was early. Sorry if I made you wait.”  
  
“I followed you in.” Her voice was flat, with a hint of challenge.  
  
I raised an eyebrow. “Well, you definitely did a good job of it. I didn't notice you at all.”  
  
She snorted. “I know. You didn't even suspect.”  
  
I just shrugged. “No reason to. I mean, the whole point was to meet up. No need for anyone to tail me if we're just going to end up in the same place in the end.”  
  
Her frown turned into a bit of a sneer. “And if I'd wanted to hurt you?”  
  
“I guess you would have,” I told her.  
  
“And what, you'd have just taken it?”  
  
I smiled a bit more broadly. “Not unless you paid me first.”  
  
She snorted out a quick laugh at that, eyes widening with a bit of surprise. “No shit?”  
  
“Well, within reason,” I said. “Wouldn't be the first time a client wanted some special services.”  
  
Shadow Stalker schooled her expression to something hard again. “We both know that's not what I meant. What would you have done if I'd wanted to shoot you, or something?”  
  
I looked her over for a moment, judging her expression, then turned away and gestured for one of the staff. They would, I knew, deliver drinks for the right price. It was against the rules, but then again about three quarters of everything that went on at Club Quicklove was against the rules, so nobody complained.  
  
“Hey!” I called out, flashing another couple of twenties at them. “Couple of beers?”  
  
The staff member nodded and trotted off, and I turned back to Shadow Stalker.  
  
“I don't drink,” she told me. “And you're not about to bribe me.”  
  
“Just think of it as an icebreaker,” I told her. “After all, you wanted to meet in a club. Let's do some club things while we get to know each other.”  
  
Her face turned a bit pensive at that, looking away from me for a second.  
  
“Okay, so we're getting to know each other,” she said. “Then answer my question. What would you have done if I'd wanted to hurt you? And don't bullshit me.”  
  
“I'd probably have gotten hurt,” I told her. Her mouth turned down again, and her eyebrows lowered.  
  
That surprised me a little bit. From my research Shadow Stalker was a fairly violent vigilante, and there were rumors in some circles that she'd done more than just rough up gang members and tie them to street lights for the cops to sweep up. Everything I'd found said that she liked to be in charge, and be seen as this big badass of the night.  
  
I was pretty confident of that. So what was the issue?  
  
I looked her over again, trying to parse her expression, but didn't speak before the beers arrived. When they did I twisted off the tops and slip a bottle toward Shadow Stalker. She caught it and looked down at it for a moment.  
  
“Give it a try,” I suggested. “It tastes like piss, but everyone drinks it, so it must have something going for it.”  
  
She snorted again, her lips turning up just a bit, and raised the bottle to take a sip. Her expression immediately twisted in disgust, and I smiled.  
  
Not because of her reaction to the beer. It was her reaction to my joke that did it. A cynical but ultimately _honest_ joke had gotten to her, where more self-effacing humor had failed.  
  
“You really want to know what I would have done if you'd attacked me?” I asked her.  
  
“Yeah,” she said, taking another sip of beer, and making another face at the taste. “I wouldn't have asked if I didn't wanna know.”  
  
“Well then, I'll be honest,” I said. “I would have gotten hurt. I wasn't lying about that. But after that, you would have found a lot of people gunning for you, and they'd have done to you a pretty good imitation of whatever you did to me.”  
  
She raised an eyebrow at that. “For real?”  
  
I nodded, serious. “For real. I don't bring weapons to meet-ups, and I don't attack my clients. Bad for business. But I do take precautions, and I take them before the meeting. So if you're thinking of locking me in your sex dungeon as your power-boosting cock-slave, just know that the paperwork's already in on my revenge.”  
  
That got an actual chuckle out of her, and a third sip of beer, to a slightly less disgusted reaction.  
  
“Okay,” she said. “I can respect that.”  
  
“Can I ask a question?” I asked.  
  
She shrugged. “Sure. Only fair, I guess.”  
  
“Why did you want to meet out of costume?”  
  
She just shrugged again, careless. “Not the first time I've done it,” she said. “If you were a villain or some shit it might be a thing, but you're not, so who cares? Besides, you'd get in more trouble than me if you spread it around.”  
  
“Fair points,” I said, finally lifting my own beer to take a drink. It tasted, as I'd said, like piss. But mild as it was the bite of the alcohol was still welcome. “Most capes put more stock in their identity than that, though. Heroes and villains both.”  
  
“Then they're retards,” she said. “Plus, you still don't know my name.”  
  
I grinned at her. “Another fair point.” I left it there, giving her a chance to say something, but she didn't. Instead we just finished our beers in silence, and when the bottles were empty Shadow Stalker stood up.  
  
“C'mon. Let's go,” she said.  
  
“Fine by me,” I told her, standing as well.  
  
Standing beside her, Shadow Stalker was a bit shorter than I'd expected. She had a presence, a sort of intensity, that made me expect she'd be nearly my height. Instead she was pretty average for a high school girl, coming up to a bit below my shoulder.  
  
Well, shorter girls had their charms too.  
  
“So, anywhere specific you want to go?” I asked.  
  
“Maybe I do,” she said. “Follow me. We're going out the back.”  
  
Which meant, at Club Quicklove, that we were going out the street exit.  
  
Shadow Stalker set the pace, walking confidently, and I followed. She brushed off the complaints of the staff in the back rooms, and we emerged onto a deserted street. She took off down the sidewalk, her strides long and crisp, not to mention quick, but my longer legs let me keep up easily.  
  
I wasn't sure where she was taking us, but I was honestly more interested than worried.  
  
I opened my mouth to speak, but she beat me to it.  
  
“So, you gave Rune a power boost, huh?”  
  
I raised an eyebrow. “I'm not in the habit of informing on my clients, you know. Pretty sure that was in the email I sent you.”  
  
“Yeah,” she said, taking a quick turn into an alley, though not a particularly dark or spooky one. Those only existed further north, not downtown. “If you were willing to talk about that, we wouldn't be here now.”  
  
Well, there were a few ways I could take that. Either we wouldn't be here because she'd have been too worried about me telling someone else about her appointment, or the slightly more sinister option, we wouldn't be here because she'd already have what she needed, so she wouldn't need to coerce it out of me now.  
  
My research indicated that she generally wasn't violent with anyone except gang members or villains, and she was generally cautious enough to only get in fights she could win, so I wasn't too worried for my safety. But 'not too worried' wasn't the same thing as 'not worried at all'.  
  
My first instinct was to play it off like a joke, but from what I'd seen so far that wouldn't go over well with her. Shadow Stalker, it seemed, appreciated honestly and respected aggression. Deflection or passivity didn't seem to be the way to go.  
  
“I'm pretty sure you already knew what I was going to say before you asked,” I told her. “So why bother?”  
  
She just looked at me speculatively, which I was going to take as a win. At the very least it didn't set her off.  
  
“So your... power boost. It's temporary, yeah?” she asked.  
  
“It is,” I confirmed. “Lasts a week or two, then declines to nothing in another couple weeks.”  
  
She nodded a few times, visibly thinking. “And how often do your... clients come back for more?”  
  
“You can ask whatever you want,” I told her. “This is your time. But if you want a service other than my... power boosting, I'm gonna have to ask for cash up front.”  
  
She scoffed, but reached into her jacket pocket and tugged out a wallet, then started counting bills.  
  
Something, maybe just my finely honed 'crazy bitch' instinct, twigged and I ducked to the side just as her fist lashed out at me, bills fluttering to the ground.  
  
My dodge didn't deter her and she came in again, stance low, fists raised. I caught a quick jab in my palm, my longer legs and arms giving me speed and reach on her, and I stepped into a kick, taking it on the thigh, using my superior weight to stay stable.  
  
She backed off then, but there was something in her eyes, in the way she focused on me. Manic, but not quite aggressive enough.  
  
Again, I couldn't quite say why, but I didn't think she'd take it well if I backed down or ran. So instead I stepped in, levelling a few jabs at her head. She was too short for a body-blow to be reasonable.  
  
She blocked easily enough, taking my punches on her forearms. I was a lot bigger than her, though, and she grunted and scowled at the weight of my hits. I followed up with a quick hook to the jaw, but it passed through her entirely as her body shifted form, becoming fainter, more see-through, with the shadows of her bones visible just below her shadowy flesh.  
  
She reformed and took a few quick steps back, her guard still up, but the fight was over and we both knew it. If she wanted to use her power against me there was nothing I could do.  
  
“Why?” I asked.  
  
“Because I wanted to see who you were,” she replied.  
  
I just nodded.  
  
I got it, on some level. Maybe not the one she did, but I'd been the business almost a year now and I'd seen a lot of capes, hero and villain. Almost all of them traded in the language of violence on some level. This was the first time it had required actual punches instead of aggressive flirting or heavy makeout sessions, but it wasn't all that much of an escalation.  
  
Part of my job, after all, was seeing things from my clients' perspective.  
  
“So was this all just a setup? I know about your rematch with Rune. It wasn't very subtle.”  
  
“If it was all a setup,” she said. “What are you going to do about it?”  
  
“Take the money and leave,” I told her, gesturing to the bills that still littered the alley floor.  
  
She nodded again, more slowly, and I started to get a picture of her reasoning.  
  
She'd lost a fight with a villain, one who she'd previously beaten. She wanted another rematch, and she wanted it to go her way. How it happened that was less important to her than it just happening, I thought.  
  
Which brought her to me. If she could take me out of play, then Rune would lose her power boost and be easy prey. But there was a risk in that, and even if she did manage it – either by removing me or getting me to agree to cut Rune off – it would take another few weeks before Rune would be back to baseline.  
  
On the other hand, Shadow Stalker had beaten Rune pretty decisively in the past, so it made sense that if they were both powered up then Shadow Stalker would again be at an advantage.  
  
So she'd wanted to get to know me. Figure out what kind of person I was so she could make a decision about how to proceed.  
  
Except that wasn't what she was really doing, even if she didn't know it herself.  
  
No, what she was doing was trying to convince herself that she should take the power boost, and she was justifying it to herself by seeing if I was 'good enough' by her weird, violent metrics.  
  
Well, I could work with that.  
  
“You don't want me to leave, though, I don't think,” I told her.  
  
Her expression hardened immediately. “You wanna tell me what I think?”  
  
“I do,” I said. “I think you came into this without having made up your mind. Recon, or scouting, however you want to put it.” I amped my grin up a notch. “I also think you've enjoyed this more than you expected to. You thought I was gonna be some slimy shit with slicked-back hair who couldn't keep his hands off you, or some weedy little douche that got a lucky power and used it to get as much pussy as possible. But that's not me, is it?”  
  
She nodded slowly. “No, you're just an asshole who thinks he can get by on being a little hot and a little charming. Not exactly better.”  
  
“I'm worlds better than you expected and you know it,” I told her. Honesty and aggression, but not directly challenging. That was the ticket. I wanted to build myself up, not try to tear her down. She'd react badly to that. “So, offer's still open. If you want it for power, or you just want some great sex, or even if you just want to hang and ask me some questions, it's all fine by me. Choice is yours.”  
  
She stared at me rather than answering, and I could see the conflict on her face as different emotions and desires chased themselves around inside her.  
  
Girls like Shadow Stalker lived with their hearts on their sleeves, even if they didn't realize it. Their desires were never as hidden as they wanted to think, and most times they'd take the first possible chance to indulge them guilt-free.  
  
I imagined that Shadow Stalker revelled in beating the shit out of gang members, giving into her lust for violence in a way that left her conscience clear. I bet she slept like a baby and had a spring in her step when she woke up the day after, and never gave a single thought to the idea that she might have crippled someone.  
  
At the same time, she _was_ a teenaged girl, and I was a hot guy not that much older than her. I'd out and out told her she could have me and I wouldn't mind in the least. Her lust would be playing with her now just as much as it would when she was in costume, out hunting her latest victim.  
  
There really was only one way this could go.  
  
“You know what? Fine. Come on,” she said, then spun on her heel. I grinned and followed, leaving the money on the floor of the alley where it lay.  
  
In the end we didn't go far. Shadow Stalker didn't take me to some fancy hotel, or to her bedroom at home, or any of the places a high school girl might want to take a lover. Instead we ended up at one of the somewhat rare downtown apartment blocks. There had been more of them when I was a kid, but as the city's shipping industry had died and the banking and tech industries moved in to replace it, many working-class people couldn't make rent anymore, leading to many of the older apartment buildings getting torn down to make room for new office blocks, shunting the people further north to even lower-income areas.  
  
But the rich and powerful always needed their secretaries, their baristas, and their delivery drivers. They all had to live somewhere.  
  
Still, it didn't seem like a terribly nice building, surrounded with rusting fences and covered in crumbling brickwork.  
  
Definitely better than just doing it in the alley, though. There were some depths I simply wasn't willing to sink to, even for a client.  
  
Shadow Stalker led me to a side door and phased through it, then pushed it open for me. After that we went up, and up, walking up clanking metal steps set in a sour-smelling stairwell, then through hallways with patchy carpeting, until we reached a specific door.  
  
There again she phased through, pushing it open for me afterwards.  
  
Inside it was... surprisingly nice. Clean carpet, sparse furnishings, and a kitchen that was clean but seemed not to have been used in a long time.  
  
A safe house? Or just somewhere she knew wasn't occupied for whatever reason?  
  
 _Suppose it doesn't really matter_.  
  
We ended up, of course, in the bedroom, and for the first time since we'd left the alley Shadow Stalker turned to look at me. I couldn't see a blush on her just-a-bit-darker-than-milk-chocolate skin, but her just-a-bit-darker-than-hazel eyes were bright, and she was breathing a bit harder than even a quick walk up a dozen floors would explain.  
  
If there was any nervousness or hesitancy in her, she had ruthlessly crushed it on the trip here.  
  
Without a word she stripped off her jacket and tossed it to the floor.  
  
I knew what was expected of me and got to work on my shirt at the same time, working each button loose one at a time, careful to display my forearms past the rolled-up sleeves. She grinned a bit, eyes on me, and I returned it, looking her up and down.  
  
I hadn't looked her over before, given that so much of our interaction had been based on threat and innuendo, much of which had required eye contact and keeping careful track of her expression, but one thing struck me now.  
  
She had a great body.  
  
Her shoulders were a bit broader than average, and her arms and shoulders were a bit more muscular than I'd expected. Not in an exaggerated way, like a female body builder, but the way that women got when they did hard work every day. That all helped to accentuate a very trim, narrow waist, which I got a fantastic view of as she pulled her purple t-shirt over her head in one swift motion.  
  
Her tits were, quite frankly, impressive. An easy C-cup at her age, barely contained in a surprisingly racy lace bra, black and sheer enough that I could see her dark nipples against her lighter skin.  
  
Then, with a look of challenge and anticipation to me, the bra was unclipped and fell to the floor, and my grin became full on predatory.  
  
If there was one thing that was sexier to me than a toned, slender back, it was a girl whose big, soft, _fat_ tits were lighter than the the rest of her body. And holy god, Shadow Stalker's tits were that and more. Naturally a shade or so paler than the rest of her skin, full and firm, topped with tight little nubs and still jiggling in freedom from confinement.  
  
And it wasn't tan lines either, I could tell. The color blended into the rest of her skin too smoothly and naturally, highlighting her glorious rack perfectly against her sleek, toned body.  
  
God, they swayed and jiggled every time she moved! It was too much. The girl had been blessed.  
  
I could feel myself getting hard already, and I accelerated my own undressing, tossing my shirt aside and working at my belt, making sure to keep myself poised, showing off my own bare chest and shoulders.  
  
And from the way that Shadow Stalker's eyes went wide as my shirt came off, her mouth making a little 'o' of surprise, she appreciated me as much as I did her. Enough that she stopped undressing, eyes locked onto me as her hands stopped their work.  
  


Not that I was going to complain, not with what her heavy breathing was doing to her tits. God, they looked so soft, but without droop or sag. Bouncy and full, but with just a hint of a teardrop shape, a bit rounder at the bottom than the top. I wanted to sink my fingers in, massage and tease them, see how sensitive they were. For tits that fresh and swelling, it had to be a _lot._ I wondered if I could get her to cum just from them alone?

“You just gonna stare at them?” Shadow Stalker asked, her voice husky. I blinked, tearing my eyes away, and realized I'd stopped undressing too.

Well that was just unprofessional.

I unbuckled my belt, pulling off my pants and underwear in a swift, practiced motion. A trick that often worked for me. Start slow but finish fast. Build the anticipation, then go for shock and awe.

It worked, as it usually did, and Shadow Stalker took in a sharp breath as my cock was revealed. The sight of her glorious jiggling fuck pillows had raised it to full mask quicker than usual, and it stood proudly, attracting her eyes like a magnet, even more than my chest had.

Then she swallowed, gave herself a little shake – and _oh_ what that did to her tits! – and stripped off her leggings in one smooth motion, tossing them to rest on top of the rest of her clothes. She didn't cover herself, though I could see her arms twitch a bit toward her crotch, and if her skin had been lighter I'd have bet a lot I would have seen a megawatt blush darkening her entire face

  
She was clean-shaven, which also surprised me a bit, though the freshness of the shave told me she'd probably done it recently, maybe specifically for me. Which was a bit endearing if it was true. A tiny hint that she wasn't as confident as she'd like.  
  
This time though I didn't have time to stare, to take in the details of her revealed sex. As soon as her pants were off she took a quick step forward and grabbed my arm, pausing slightly as her hand roamed unconsciously over my bicep before closing tight and pulling me toward the bed.  
  
“On your back,” she ordered, tossing me forward.  
  
I let her, content that she take charge and set the pace, going with the motion and lying down, my legs straight and my dick standing tall. I did stay propped up on my elbows through, watching as she approached me, steps just a tiny bit hesitant, eyes locked onto my cock.  
  
She took a quick swallow, then spoke, her voice still low and throaty, almost no hitch or hint of nervousness in it. “This is how it's gonna go. I'm gonna get on top of you, and I'm gonna ride you however I want. You can touch me or whatever, but no kissing.”  
  
I just nodded, and watched as she climbed onto the bed, crawling toward me on hands and knees. Her hips swayed as she advanced on me, ass cheeks bouncing slightly, perked up above her arched back, but once again it was her tits that held the bulk of my attention.  
  
They swayed even more than her hips, hanging loose, moving in a side-to-side motion that was nearly hypnotic, and they shook and rippled every time her hand came down, nipples dancing below the elastic mounds.  
  
It was poetry in motion, but I held myself back, waiting for her to make the first move, and she did.  
  
She came to a stop when her face was near mine, and I could feel her breath on me, her lips barely parted, the tip of her tongue caught between her teeth as her eyes met mine, still fierce and challenging. I just smiled in response, not quite cocky.  
  
She settled astride me, her hips coming down on my thighs, her soft, plump rear pressing against me as her weight came down, her knees resting beside my hips. Her breathing picked up a touch, and she slid forward, hands still planted by my shoulders, still staring me in the eyes, though I barely noticed, still focused on her glorious tits.  
  
She moved forward slowly, deliberately, and very clearly at her own pace. She gasped slightly when she reached the base of my dick, pushing it back against my belly as her wet, slippery sex glided over it. I could feel her twitch, her belly and thighs tightening slightly, her knees clamping to my side just a fraction tighter.  
  
We were still for a moment, apart from her deep, steady breaths and my slightly calmer ones, and then she started grinding. Back and forth, forward and back, lubing up my cock with her juices, her body tightening at the end of each gliding push, then loosening as she slid backward. The strokes were long, covering the entire length of my dick, each one ending with my head resting just barely inside her entrance, teasing at her clit for just a moment before she moved backward, sliding back down the length of me, sandwiching my length between our bellies.  
  
Despite the confidence she held, the way she didn't fumble, and how her long strokes were sure and steady from the start, it took her some time to establish a rhythm. For her body to find the speed and pressure that best suited her. She bore down on me, pressing more of her weight against me, pushing me down into the bed. Her hips came into it more, too, starting to buck and roll with the motion, rather than just moving forward and back.  
  
Her breathing picked up another notch, gaining a ragged edge, little gasps escaping her every time she came forward, and sweat started beading on her lovely mocha skin. It slid down her face, and rolled down her chest, little beads of it gathering at the tips of her breasts as they swayed back and forth right in front of me, shaking and waving with her motion, back and forth, back and forth, like soft, pillowy pendulums.  
  
The sweat started dripping as she built her momentum, drop after drop, almost like she was lactating, and I couldn't hold back anymore.  
  
I leaned forward, and took one of her nipples in my mouth.  
  
The move surprised her. She squeaked slightly, and I felt her stomach go tight against my dick. I couldn't see her expression, my eyes filled with nothing but delicious, sweat-beaded brown skin, but it didn't matter.  
  
I didn't start sucking right away. That was always a mistake. Instead I rolled my tongue around her nipple, delighting in the way the little nub hardened in my mouth, and the spicy taste of her sweat. She responded as I'd hoped, groaning and grinding down, lowering her head to rest against my shoulder, her hips moving in little circles, her knees clamping onto me with nearly painful force.  
  
My hand joined in, leaving me only on arm to support myself, rubbing at her other breast, sinking into the warm, silk-smooth skin, pressing firmly with my palm, then squeezing and pulling back, sliding off the slick smoothness of her skin before pressing in again, massaging her in time with the circling of her hips.  
  
“Ooooooh.”  
  
She let out a long moan as she shuddered, her breath hot against my neck, then tensed up, drawing away, hands planted against my chest to push me down onto the bed even as she reared upright. My mouth left her nipple with a pop.  
  
“Stop. Not yet.”  
  
I didn't respond, eyes still locked on the delights that had just been denied me, heaving and bouncing as she panted, sweat still rolling down them, dripping off her hard, protruding nipples or rolling down the smooth curves of the undersides before continuing down her stomach.  
  
She took a moment to calm down, then took a hand off my chest to run it down her face, visibly fighting to slow her breathing. The way she held herself, her forearm was pressed against the side of her breast, pushing it in, squishing it against its twin. The way it yielded, the soft, sweet deformation, the way it stood out from her, just enough lighter than the rest of her skin to be highlighted. My hands twitched. I could make her cum. I knew it. Over and over, until she was helpless, too drunk with pleasure to remember her own name.  
  
God, it would be so easy.  
  
But I didn't. I just lay there, her other hand pressed against my chest, letting her hold me down as she adjusted herself. I'd challenged her, giving her pleasure faster than she'd wanted or expected. She had to up the stakes, and that just meant one thing.  
  
Her hips rose up just high enough that my dick could regain its full height, resting a fraction of an inch from her entrance, still close enough to feel the heat of it. Then she moved her hand downward, pressing against her breast, then trailing down her stomach – and oh the way that beautiful globe sprung back, so resilient, and vibrant, and lovely – all the way to her pussy, dancing lightly over the soaked skin, smeared with sweat and sticky with juices. She curled her finger inward, and it was such a light touch, barely parting the tender flesh, giving me my first look inside her.  
  
Her pussy was as bold as the rest of her. Already swollen and dripping, the thick lips were inflamed, parted but not quite gaping, ready and waiting beneath a bald, puffy mound than yielded under even her light, questing touch. It stood out, a statement and invitation. A ripe fruit, needy and wanting, ready to envelop me, to swallow my dick, almost begging for it. A challenge, too, daring me to thrust into it without blowing my load instantly.  
  
I could see it, too. Thick, dripping, clinging, squeezing down and wringing me out, leaving me drained beneath her.  
  
Well, we'd see about that.  
  
Eventually Shadow Stalker's fingers finished their downward journey, twining around my rod, shifting it this way and that as her hips rocked, dipping up and down, those puffy, parted pussy lips giving the head of my cock tiny little kisses. Testing me as she'd tested herself. Probing, hit and run attacks that dared me to rush upward into her trap.  
  
I didn't rise to her bait, content to wait for her to come to me. Despite her confidence, her assumption of dominance over our engagement, she lacked experience, and her attacks were doing more to her than to me. I could see her breath hitch each time we came together, the way her pussy twitched, juicy lips squeezing together, ready to suck me inside, wanting nothing else.  
  
Soon enough she faltered, patience running out, need and lust overwhelming her, and the next time our sexes touched, she kept going, sinking down, swallowing me into her red-hot depths. It wasn't quick. She didn't slam downward. She took me into her one piece at a time, hips still rocking and swaying as she lowered herself down, each motion accompanied by gasps, moans, and quiet curses, her head lolling further and further back with each inch of me that penetrated her.  
  
When our hips finally met with a wet smack, her whole body shuddered, twitching this way and that, back arched in a bow, tight enough that I thought for a moment that she's already cum. But she rallied too quickly, collecting herself and slumping forward again, hands planted on my chest, eyes squeezed shut and panting like a dog in heat.  
  
“G-god damn,” she slurred, swallowing a mouthful of drool. “Holy shit. So fucking big. Holy fuck. So fucking full.”  
  
Always nice to hear, of course, but sitting with my cock inside her lush, snug hole, throbbing in time with my heartbeat, I wasn't content to let herself gather herself again.  
  
This time, I counterattacked.  
  
My hips bucked upward, tearing another harsh gasp from her and sending her eyes fluttering open, staring at nothing. I let her weight settle back down on me for a moment, her pussy shuddering around me, knees clamped to my side hard enough to bruise, her tits jumping and swaying with her uneven, panting breaths. Then I bucked again, grinding my dick against her insides, reaching all the way up into her, nudging against her inner depths. She moaned, clamping down on me like a vice, hips rocking in response, luscious breasts swaying side to side, their full roundness just too tempting to ignore.  
  
As she responded to my thrusts, her hips getting into gear again, grinding down against me, pussy clenching again my intruding length, I reached up, clamping down on her tits. No massage this time. Instead I gripped them, hands engulfing their entire soft, yielding forms, then I pulled toward me, sliding my fingers down them in a milking motion, ending up pinched around her nipples. I held on for a moment, pulling, stretching them out, then my fingers slipped off and they snapped back, elastic, bouncing and jiggling, before I repeated the motion.  
  
As always I timed my movements to hers, reaching out, grabbing her yielding flesh, and pulling on her soft mounds in counterpoint to her hips bouncing against mine.  
  
She started to speed up, coming into tune with me, losing herself in the desire and the need for more. More of me, plunging deeper into her, filling her up. More of my hands, pulling on her, milking her, squeezing her softness. She arched herself against me, moaning out her want, hips slamming against me, ass bouncing and slapping against my thighs. Her pussy squelched, its thickness plump against me, around me, wet sounds torn from its ripe depths every time she came down on me.  
  
She was so far gone she couldn't control herself now, mind too deep in her own pussy to control her hips. She wasn't grinding anymore, wasn't throwing in circles or sways of her ass. She just shook her hips like an animal, knees crushing, hands braced against my chest, eyes unseeing and mouth gaping and panting, furious for every drop of sensation.  
  
“Oh god, oh fuck, fuck me, oh fuck me, fuck my pussy, fuck my pussy, fuck me, oh god!”  
  
She babbled, her words slurred, dragged out of her, doing anything she could to get me to buck against her more, to meet her hips harder and faster, to drive myself deeper inside her.  
  
She was on the edge, so far-gone that she'd already have cum her brains out without my power. But it wasn't so kind as that, not willing to let her find release. It demanded more. More desire, more pleasure, more wild abandon. It wanted nothing less than for her entire being to surrender to it, to plead with every fiber of her body and soul for it to erupt inside her, to fill her to bursting, to explode, to erupt, to blast away everything in her but the _need_ for more.  
  
And she gave in. She gave in entirely. At the height of her pleasure, in the depths of her body, as my dick filled her to the brim, she raised her hands to her head, arced her back in a bow, and screamed out in her uttermost need, a wailing shriek that shook her to her core, and we finally came together.  
  
The world disappeared in a flood of darkness, radiating away from our wet joining, leaving us in stark black and white. We were spread thin, smeared across a billion worlds, untouchable but untouching. Open to the world, free in a way that was beyond reason, separate and outside and endless.  
  
There, in that black and white space, my scream of release joined Shadow Stalker's, and I emptied myself into her, filling her pussy with my cum, pump after pump, my cock jerking like a firehose inside her, her plush and silken depths shuddering around me, clenching me in a vice of wet velvet as they churned and clenched, sucking in everything I could give her, desperately devouring it all.  
  
For all the fury that I filled her with, it was just a sideshow. A channel for the boundless _something_ that flooded out of me through my straining, yearning cock and into her womb. A shining river, a silver flood, pure light, it expanded her, invaded her, pounded through her, and she invited it in with all her heart. It blasted through her, scouring her soul even as it filled her to bursting, the light of it shining through her skin and out of her shot-wide mouth and eyes.  
  
It went on and on and on, stretching Shadow Stalker tight as a drum, filling her shuddering, shaking, fuck-drunk form and leaving room for nothing else, her skin tight around the pure pleasure almost to bursting.  
  
Eventually it died down, slowly, by degrees, leaving her to gradually slump down as the energy that filled her ebbed away, leaving her slack and empty. She collapsing down on me in stages, a bit at a time, until her chest rested against mine. She was panting, ragged, her eyes fluttering unevenly, pupils wide and sightless, her mouth flopping open and closed, gasping like a fish but still whispering on repeat, begging me to fuck her, fill her up. Unaware that I already had.  
  
Then, the darkness around us closed in, and for a while the world went away.  
  
I woke up to a feeling of unbearable softness pressed to my chest, and more of it wrapped loosely around my softening cock.  
  
Shadow Stalker was splayed out on top of me, limbs moving weakly and without coordination, still mumbling inaudibly, drooling again me. Her tits were pressed again me, squished almost flat as their too-soft, too-yielding mass gave way. More, her twitching and squirming made them slide against me, her nipples little hardened knots pressing against me.  
  
I was still inside her, too, though her cunt was loose now, the muscles inside her as used and abused as the rest of her, too tired and pleasured to do more than twitch and squeeze once in awhile.  
  
With her still that out of it, I let myself take a bit of advantage, reaching behind her to grab her ass. I hadn't got a chance to really appreciate it yet, so I gave it a few squeezes, judging it.  
  
It was, unsurprisingly, as plush as her pussy was, soft and full, letting my fingers sinking in, but with steel muscles underneath.  
  
I let go quickly, though. Some things were best saved for later.  
  
Still, the feel of my fingers sinking in combined with the way her weak struggles caused her tits to rub against me awakened my cock once again, and it started growing inside her, filling up her pussy just a bit more.  
  
Her mumbles broke up with a soft hiccup of indrawn breath, and she shuddered, blinking her eyes, coming back to herself.  
  
As she did, I saw her expression harden slightly, and she braced her trembling arms against the bed, pushing herself away from me, and giving me a wonderful glimpse of her tits hanging down as she scrambled backward.  
  
My dick slid out of her with a sucking pop, her cunt still tight and puffy even at its loosest, and she shuddered again, going still for a second.  
  
She closed her eyes, mouth set in a tight line.  
  
I imagined that she was more than a little conflicted right then. At the loss of control, at her surrender to the pleasure, at the closeness she was feeling to me both from the natural reaction to the mind-blowing sex and to the fading memories of our deeper connection. Most of all at the yearning I knew she felt even then to try for another round.  
  
But I had a rule for first-time customers. One fuck the first time, and no more.  
  
It just wasn't safe.  
  
There was more bitterness in her than I'd imagined though, and after a few deep breaths to let her calm the shaking in her limbs, she stood up, a bit unsteady, and went about gathering her clothes.  
  
When that was done, and the bundle of fabric was pressed to her sweaty body, she turned to me.  
  
“Get dressed and get out. Your money will be on the table in the kitchen.”  
  
I just nodded, my eyes flicking down to her sex for a moment. It still gaped, swollen and dripping cum down her thighs in a steady stream, staining the carpet around her feet. I almost felt I could see a little bulge in her muscled belly at the inhuman volume of my seed that was still inside her. My cock twitched again at the sight, and she squeezed her eyes shut, looking away with a shudder.  
  
She shook herself quickly, then spun around and phased through the door without another word.  
  
Still, I was satisfied. I'd affected her, even if she didn't want to admit it.  
  
And I knew, in my heart, that she'd be back for more soon enough.


	3. Rune: Second Session

Appearances mattered, but they could also deceive.  
  
They could deceive in a lot of ways. They could deceive when a hero hid their strength behind a bumbling persona. They could deceive when a weakling put up a tough front. They could also deceive when you bought too strongly into your own bullshit and blinded yourself to what was going on around you.  
  
Point was, they could deceive. Seeing behind the appearance of things was important. A gun hidden in a fancy suit, a crackhead hiding their jitters while trying to get into a crew, and most dangerously an enemy pretending to be your friend so they could stab you in the back. There were a million ways that appearances could be a lie.  
  
She was living one right now.  
  
Rune grit her teeth as rocks and driftwood curved through the air under her command, criss-crossing each other as they sought their target. They came from above, from below, from every side, moving at speeds that made her a bit dizzy to keep track of, but all they hit was air.  
  
 _Fuck! This should have been easy!_  
  
It had seemed to be too good to be true, finding Shadow Stalker again less than a week after their first rematch. The hero was normally elusive, rarely seen on patrol. Most of the time her fights made the news they were ambushes from out of nowhere, attacking her targets and disappearing again before anyone could question her. Even the few pictures of her that made it online were generally taken by the people she saved, usually during the fight since she rarely stuck around afterward.  
  
So finding her again, this soon? And being able to start the fight herself, on her own terms, rather than having to spend days dangling herself out in the open as bait before Shadow Stalker finally attacked?  
  
Too good to be true was putting it mildly.  
  
The fact that she'd found her on the beach should have been a tip off, honestly.  
  
Rune tossed herself to the ground, hunkering in the little hollow she'd made for herself in the sand as another barrage of crossbow bolts flashed in. They came in an uneven swarm, each one a different size, moving at a different speed. Most of them disappeared before they reached her, and the few that did passed over her head to scatter on the beach or plunged into the waves. Even those faded away after a moment, shimmering into little clouds of shadow that dissipated soon after.  
  
It didn't take a genius to tell what was going on.  
  
Shadow Stalker had found a power boost just like she had, and Rune was pretty confident how she'd managed it.  
  
Honestly she would have called the hero a shameless slut if she hadn't done the same thing herself, and for almost exactly the same reason.  
  
But it did present her with a problem. When they'd both been at their baseline, neither of them powered up by an outside source, Shadow Stalker had kicked her ass. Now that they were even again, it seemed like a good chance she'd manage it again.  
  
In some ways that wouldn't be the worst thing. She wasn't getting beaten down in front of anyone else from the E88 this time. A loss here wouldn't resonate up and down the ranks like her last one had.  
  
On the other hand, given the way she'd treated Shadow Stalker last time... A crossbow bolt to the tit might be the least of her worries.  
  
She growled, face twisting up into a snarl. No, it wasn't going to be that easy. She wasn't going down without a fight. Shadow Stalker might be stronger now, but that didn't mean she was automatically going to win.  
  
They weren't stuck in an alley or a warehouse this time. They were out on the open beach, with all the space she needed to play with and plenty of ammo.  
  
She could still win this, and put an end to the whole stupid situation once and for all.  
  
With a burst of speed, and a mental grip on the corset under her robe, she burst out of her foxhole, sprinting across the sand, the loose grains slipping and sliding under her running shoes. Another scattershot burst of half-real crossbow bolts swarmed toward her, but planks of driftwood shot up from under the sand, intercepting them. They thudded into the wood, some punching all the way through, and she noticed for the first time that they all had different heads, as well as many of the shafts being different sizes.  
  
It was weird, but it didn't hold her attention as she arrived at her target. An old fishing boat, maybe forty feet long and with a dozen long rods still dangling hooks from the back of it. She trailed her hand along the side as she sprinted past it, and light swirled out from her touch, spreading into jagged lines and runes along the boat's hull before sinking in.  
  
The biggest boost she'd got from Hype's... treatment. His treatment. She no longer needed to work at tracing elaborate patterns on things, taking time and attention away from the fight. Now her power did it nearly automatically, the energy spooling out from her chest, down her arms, and into her target without any apparent effort.  
  
She shook off the thoughts that rose up in her whenever she was reminded of the treatment, though there was still a little hitch in her gait as she felt warmth gathering between her legs. She ignored it and kept running as the boat lifted up behind her.  
  
It would have been nice to board it and gain some height advantage, but if she was honest she didn't have enough ammunition under her control to risk it. Once she was up in the air she'd be stuck with whatever she had, unless she wanted to risk coming down for more.  
  
Plus... Shadow Stalker's new offence had her a little spooked. The bitch hadn't tried to phase her crazy attack through Rune's cover yet, but that didn't mean she couldn't do it.  
  
She stopped for a moment, heart thumping at the risk as she narrowed her eyes to try and catch sight of Shadow Stalker under the rising hull of her fishing boat. With luck...  
  
 _Ah, she fell for it!_  
  
Shadow Stalker was rushing forward, not fully solid, wisps of shadow drifting away from the edges of her cloak as she stared up at the rising boat, searching for Rune, crossbow trained upward, ready to take a shot.  
  
But she hadn't expected Rune to stay on the ground, in the open, and that cost her.  
  
Or it should have.  
  
Rocks and bits of junk from the beach stopped circling around Rune and shot forward, under the rising boat, punching into Shadow Stalker while her attention was elsewhere, and she flew backward. Rune felt a momentary thrill rise up inside her, eyes going wide and mouth opening in a triumphant shout, but then Shadow Stalker just... came apart.  
  
Her body dispersed into shadows, wisps of black edged with pale white, disappearing and fading away just like her bolts did.  
  
What the hell?  
  
It was only her new sense, another 'gift' from Hype, that saved her. She felt something appear behind it. It was faint, amorphous, not at all sharp and clear like the presence of things under her control. The sense got more blurry and useless the further things were from her, too. But something appearing out of nothing two feet from her back?  
  
Again, it didn't take a genius to realize what was going on.  
  
She dived forward, a swarm of black streaks passing over her, a few tugging at the fabric of her robe as she dived and rolled, desperately drawing her ammunition back to her. She used it without a plan, or coordination, dozens of rocks and bits of metal and wood hammering into the sand all around her, falling like sledgehammers.  
  
More than one caught Shadow Stalker, but whatever had happened to her power was strange, and she disappeared again, the half-smoke that made up her body torn apart and scattered to the winds.  
  
And again she reappeared, up on the hull of the boat this time.  
  
“I still want information, you know!” Shadow Stalker shouted. “But it's kinda hard to control all this, so if you're gonna be a bitch about things I'll settle for using you as a pincushion!”  
  
Hard to control? Had the dumb slut come here with Hype's cum still dripping out of her cunt?  
  
Rune had figured everything out about her own power boost in just a few hours, and within a week her control had been just as good as ever. Better, even!  
  
She scrambled to her feet, once again pushing away any thoughts of Hype and his cum, ignoring the heat that hadn't quite died down inside her ever since the 'treatment'. It was a distraction, but she could deal with it.  
  
“You sure it'll be that easy!?” Rune called up at her. “I'm not the one that ended up going swimming last time!”  
  
“If you could beat me you already would have!” Shadow Stalker called back. “Face it, you lost this time, and I won! Don't make it more embarrassing for yourself than you have to!”  
  
“Fucking cunt,” Rune grumbled, then jerked her hand down sharply.  
  
It wasn't necessary, but gestures still seemed to help when she wanted to do something hard and fast. With a groan of protesting metal and the sound of splintering wood, the fishing boat jerked and spun downward, pitching Shadow Stalker off the deck, arms and legs flailing, a startled scream drawn from her lips.  
  
And as she fell, Rune sent in some of her smaller bits of ammunition, aiming not at Shadow Stalker this time, but at her crossbow.  
  
Her plan worked, and the rocks smashed through it, tearing the fibreglass body to pieces and ripping it out of her hand.  
  
And then, once again, Shadow Stalker came apart, just ahead of the boat smashing itself to pieces on the beach, throwing a cloud of sand and debris up into the air.  
  
Rune spun in a circle, head tracking, searching for any hint of the shadows pulling themselves together, but for a minute nothing happened. Quickly the thump and clatter of debris stopped, as well as the hiss of falling sand.  
  
She was on the beach, alone. Shadow Stalker was nowhere in sight.  
  
Then, suddenly, a pain erupted in her foot, and she shrieked, jumping into the air, her corset in her telepathic grip carrying her into a long glide to land on the torn hull of the fishing boat. She stumbled as she landed, her feet going out from under her, and she bit her lip against the pain of it.  
  
Something had impaled her foot from below, punching a hole up through it, and blood was running freely over the shattered wood she found herself on.  
  
“Oh fuck,” she grit out. “Oh shit.”  
  
That was a _lot_ of blood.  
  
Away on the beach, beside a patch of reddened sand at the end of a trail of spilled blood, Shadow Stalker rose up out of the ground.  
  
“Now that was new,” she said, almost absently, as if talking to herself. In her hand was her crossbow, seemingly none the worse for wear, and the broadhead point of the loaded bolt glinted red..  
  
Fuck, if she could move through the ground now, things had just gotten really bad.  
  
Rune had been hoping that, if she really _was_ new to her power boost, that there would be something to take advantage of. Some kind of slip or weakness that Shadow Stalker wouldn't realize, that would finally let her take the bitch down.  
  
But that was seeming less and less likely by the minute.  
  
No, what she needed to start thinking of now was how to get away.  
  
The shattered hull of the ship started to lift off, And Rune clenched her hands tight to a bit of railing beside her, using her corset to stabilize her as the wreck tilted and swayed, broken fragments detaching from the whole to fly this way and that. Hopefully, with some luck, Shadow Stalker would lose track of her in the chaos.  
  
She didn't. Or at least not fast enough. Crossbow bolts peppered the rising wreckage, and Rune choked down another scream as one found her arm, the shadowy thing piercing her bicep all the way through before disappearing. An instant later blood started to flow from the holes.  
  
“Oh shit,” she whispered, starting to shake. Her robe fluttered for a moment, but it was too soft for her to have any serious control over. No chance of using it as an automatic tourniquet.  
  
More bolts peppered her mount, arriving in staggered waves. A few scattered thuumps against wood or metal, quickly followed by a rising series of smaller impacts, then petering out only to start again a moment later. Shadow Stalker swept the cloud of wreckage even as Rune urged it higher and higher as best she could with her focus shattered by the pain and blood-loss.  
  
Luckily it seemed that whatever Shadow Stalker's power did now, range was an issue, because by the time the boat was just a few stories up in the air the impacts decreased dramatically, and stopped a moment later.  
  
Rune let out of a shaky sigh of relief, but didn't slow down. Who knew what Shadow Stalker could manage as she got the hang of her new power? She could already teleport, kind of, if only when her shadow form got disrupted. And maybe only to random locations. But given... everything, it wasn't something she was willing to bet her life on.  
  
Instead she kept rising, and only tilted her bit of broken hull toward home once she was up to the height of the downtown skyscrapers.  
  
Then, letting her power run mostly on auto-pilot, she got to work tearing her costume and binding up her wounds. It wasn't easy. Her hands shook, weak and slippery with blood, and pulling the knots tight almost made her pass out.  
  
She didn't manage to hold in her screams, then.  
  
But she got it done, finally. That just left her to get out her phone and dial the number for what she was sure would be a very annoying, very embarrassing conversation with Othala.  
  
Still, it couldn't be as bad as explaining how she got shot in the tit last time.  
  
Even so her mouth was twisted with bitter anger as she flew on, and the entire time one thought was running through her head.  
  
She'd lost. Again.  
  
She wasn't strong enough.  
  
Worse, she knew how to fix that. It would even be... pleasant.  
  
She shuddered, and not with pain. She wasn't stupid. She knew how good it would feel, getting another power boost.  
  
Right from the first day after her... appointment, she'd known. How could she not?  
  
That was what scared her, when merely _thinking_ of Hype – or just being reminded he existed – caused her pussy to clench and her legs to squirm at remembered ecstasy.  
  
She wanted to go back.  
  
And now, after yet another loss, the pressure was greater. The _need._ She needed pleasure. She needed power.  
  
She _needed_ him.  
  


8=====D~~~~~#(.)(.)#~~~~~C=====8

  
Appearances mattered, but they could also deceive.  
  
They could deceive in a lot of ways. They could deceive when a poor woman spent all her money to put on airs, pretending to be rich. They could deceive when a girl who'd never so much as been kissed dressed like a slut to seem experienced. They could also deceive when you bought too strongly into the image you were cultivating and missed when someone saw through you.  
  
Point was, they could deceive. Seeing behind the appearance of things was important. A woman smiling while clenching her fists, a girl laughing with tears in her eyes, and most dangerous of all a woman that claims that nothing's wrong after a fight. There were a million ways that appearances could be a lie.  
  
A client asking for a second appointment a few weeks after their first wasn't unusual. A client asking for a last-minute appointment after losing a fight wasn't that unusual either. Happened all the time.  
  
A customer asking for both at once, while trying to cover up the desperation and jitters in her voice, though. That was less common, and it made me wonder what was happening under the surface. Experience had told me, though, that with women – and especially young women – even they didn't always know.  
  
But the memory of flowing golden hair and a tight, fresh pussy drew me on, and I agreed.  
  
Besides, I was a professional. It wasn't good business to turn down a client when you didn't absolutely need to.  
  
Once again my car slid to a stop in a too-small downtown parking space, and I stepped out into the chilly night as the engine pinged its way to sleep, looking up at some of the biggest, highest-class apartment buildings in the city.  
  
The Towers. Three identical skyscraper-sized buildings set in a maze of paths and gardens, all full of secret signals for anyone in the know. A few too many dedications to people whose first and last name started with 'S'. Pathways where the paving stones changed color or pattern every eight tiles. Nothing that could be pointed to as real proof of anything, of course.  
  
Appearances doing their best to deceive.  
  
It told me, combined with the last-minute nature of the appointment, that this was where Rune actually lived rather than simply somewhere she'd arranged for us to meet.  
  
But what was the message there, under the surface? In our first session Rune had been brash on the outside but shy and unsure just barely underneath, and her tough facade hadn't lasted long in the face of the pleasure I'd given her. But she'd also been determined, willing to make what she saw as a sacrifice in order to win a fight. That too hadn't lasted long in the face of her pleasure, but it had been there, and more real than her surface-level arrogance and confidence.  
  
So with that in mind, what was this? Was inviting me here a power play to showcase her dominance in a place where she was surrounded by powerful allies? Or was it another show of determination, sacrificing a bit of her secret identity for whatever goal she'd set herself?  
  
My instinct was that it was more the latter than the former, but I wasn't sure.  
  
In some ways I wanted to dismiss the entire idea. I was a professional and she was my client. Any games on her part were frankly unnecessary. But it was always harder for women to accept that than men. Social dynamics were a part of them on far too deep a level to ever discount, unless you were willing to pay the price when some girl who shot cutting beams from her fingertips thought you'd spurned her.  
  
I had firsthand experience with that, and I'd rather avoid adding to it.  
  
Inside the building I found a code pad and typed in the password Rune had given me. A glass door slid open, and I walked into a semi-opulent foyer. Tile floor, tastefully painted walls, and a lot of rather healthy potted plants. Also an empty security desk, from which I could read any number of things. Had Rune asked for the security to take some time off? Or were they in a monitoring room carefully documenting every step I took?  
  
In the end I didn't know, and had no way of knowing.  
  
I took the elevator up to Rune's floor, a suite near the top of the building. I put on my mask, carefully checked the fit, then rang her doorbell.  
  
The door jumped open immediately. I was clearly expected.  
  
In the doorway Rune stood in full costume. Another statement I couldn't quite parse. With an address I could find a name, which was a lot more important than how someone looked out of costume.  
  
A power play, or a sacrifice? Or just a shy, inexperienced girl doing her best to put up a strong front?  
  
I gave her a professionally friendly smile, and handed her a small glasses case. Her sex mask, as requested.  
  
She took it in both hands and held it to her chest, then stood there staring at me for a moment, eyes wide and face red in the depths of her hood.  
  
She came back to herself with a shake and stepped away from the door. “Um, come in?”  
  
I nodded my thanks and stepped inside, the door swinging silently shut behind me.  
  
“So, you sounded pretty stressed on the phone,” I told her. “Are you alright?”  
  
Her mouth flattened for a moment, and she took an annoyed breath. “I'm fine. I just... need a little pick-me-up, you know?”  
  
I nodded in agreement. “Well, I can certainly do that for you. Did you read the message I sent?”  
  
“Yeah,” she admitted, looking down at her feet, her robe moving in a way that told me she was rubbing her thighs together. “You need to- You need to _do it_ with me twice, this time.”  
  
“I do,” I said. “The more... doing, the more of a power boost you get, but the shorter the time it lasts. You're alright with that?”  
  
She forced herself to meet my gaze, her face falling into a practiced sneer. An affected expression, rather than honest. “I said I read your shit,” she told me. “I get it. Now, come to my-” her voice hitched. “To the bedroom.”  
  
I gestured for her to lead the way, then followed behind her. Her robes swished as she walked, a bit more of a sway to her slender hips than she'd had the first time we'd met.  
  
Her suite was almost exactly what I would have expected of a young villain living alone. It was big, each room expansive and open, and mostly empty. Her living room was at the corner of the building, with huge windows all along two of the walls. But it only had a single couch in it, facing away from the windows and toward an entertainment center that housed a huge flat-screen TV. Pizza boxes and empty cartons of chinese food were stacked on a coffee table set right in range of someone lying down on the couch. The deep shag carpet had a few obvious stains the shape of more pizza boxes, and there were piles of clothes in several corners. A pair of panties, darkened at the crotch, hung from the corner of the TV.  
  
Rune, however bashful she still seemed, apparently wasn't bothered by the state of her apartment. Which actually told me a lot. It told me that her parents or whoever she'd grown up with had never kept a very clean house. It told me she rarely had people over, which probably meant she didn't have many real friends. It told me that she was utterly unconscious of the wealth and privilege she held.  
  
It told me that she was young, and inexperienced with the world, and that whatever was driving her so strongly to battle Shadow Stalker she almost certainly wasn't setting any kind of trap for me.  
  
It made me sorry for her, a bit. I could easily see her being in over her head in a very similar way to how I was, a bit over a year ago. But something told me that she wasn't likely to find anyone in the E88 that would be willing to help her.  
  
In a way that was my job. To give her the power to solve her problems, and in the shorter term to get her to forget about them through... other means. To give her pleasure, to make her happy, and if possible to give her some peace and contentment, if only for a while.  
  
Being a gigolo – superpowered or not – wasn't just about the sex, after all. It was about the experience.  
  
When we reached the bedroom she stood with her back to me a for moment, affixing her mask, then tossed back the hood of her robe and turned to me. She was still wide-eyed, face flushed, and her hair was mussed from being under the hood, falling partly across her face.  
  
“So... uh....” she started, fidgeting, her hands clasped together.  
  
It was, if I was honest, a bit adorable. But I could tell she was still nervous. In a way it was worse than our first appointment. Then she'd had no idea how intense the sex was going to be, so in some ways she'd gone in without expectations. She'd been embarrassed, but her main goal had been to get it over with as fast as possible. She'd been willing to just go through the motions, content in a way to let me take charge.  
  
This was different. If I was reading things right she was under even more pressure than last time, which was probably what had prompted her to contact me in such a hurry. But now that we were on the verge of the act itself that pressure was ramming up against the part of her that was a shy girl about to take a man to her bed for the first time.  
  
But this wasn't our first session anymore. It was our second, and that gave me certain advantages.  
  
I stepped toward her, and she took in a sharp breath, tensing up. But I just put a hand on her face, rubbing against the smooth skin there, and her breath escaped her in a low moan as she leaned into my touch.  
  
“It's alright,” I told her gently, moving my thumb to her mouth and rubbing at her lips. They were soft and a bit moist, and parted easily at the slightest pressure. She sucked at my thumb for a moment, absently, by instinct, and her eyes drifted closed. It wasn't just my power, either. I would have laid good odds on this being the first gentle touch she'd had from another human since she was a kid.  
  
I kept rubbing my thumb in circles around her tongue as she suckled at it, watching her body relax.  
  
“That's it,” I said. “Everything's alright. Relax. Let me help you.”  
  
“'Kay,” she mumbled around my thumb, eyes still closed.  
  
I pulled my thumb out of her mouth as I stepped in closer, and she leaned into me, lips still pursed, her hands going to my chest.  
  
“You're doing well,” I said as I started to remove her robe, pulling it up over her head. “You're doing so good.”  
  
She hummed in response, letting me do my work. I kept going like that, whispering assurances and affirmations to her as I undressed her, careful to keep my touches gentle rather than erotic. I gave her hair extra attention, making sure not to pull at it as it came free of her robe, cascading down around her like a waterfall. I started shedding my own clothes at the same time, and her hands started roaming over me. She was still hesitant, hands barely making contact with my bare skin for a moment before darting away, then moving in again.  
  
I was tempted to go in for a kiss. My instincts told me she'd reciprocate, kiss me back, and it would certainly help speed things up. But I didn't. I still wasn't quite sure of her, and no matter how much my tone and my touch was relaxing her she was still tense under the surface, trembling slightly every time I removed a piece of clothing or when one of my hands came a bit close to her chest or groin.  
  
Kisses were, in a way, more intimate than sex itself was. It wouldn't have been the first time that a girl freaked out at a kiss even after I'd been balls-deep in her.  
  
Of course, that was also why they were so useful.  
  
Rune's breathing picked up as the last of our clothes hit her bedroom floor, and I rested my hands on her hips, thumbs coming together just above her bush. I squeezed a bit, reminding her why I was here, and her breath hitched, almost a hiccup.  
  
She finally opened her eyes again, looking up to meet my gaze in both fear and anticipation. A hint of drool leaked from the corner of her mouth. But she didn't say anything, just stared at me, innocent and vulnerable behind a curtain of golden hair.  
  
Again, my instincts demanded I go in for the kiss, but I resisted, gently guiding her backward toward the bed.  
  
She let me, lying down and shimmying backward, her hands pressed against her chest protectively, her hair gripped in her hands to shield her and her legs pressed tightly together, curled defensively in front of her, almost as if she was getting ready to kick me away.  
  
I climbed onto the bed after her, slowly, taking my time. I met her eyes, gave her a smile I hoped was reassuring, and she returned it with one that was slightly more wobbly.  
  
When I reached her and she didn't move to escape, I put my hands on her knees, gently prying them apart. She didn't resist, but her trembling increased. More in worried anticipation than fear at that point, I thought.  
  
I didn't push her legs too far apart, but instead slid up between them as soon as there was room, my thighs pushing against hers, insistent, curling her legs back toward her and leaving her feet hanging loose up by my shoulders.  
  
It was a versatile position to start from. With her on her back, hips tilted up toward me and legs in the air, I could easily move her into whatever position I wanted. I could grab her ankles and hook them over my shoulders to deepen penetration. Or pull her legs straight and cross her ankles if I wanted her tighter. Similarly, being on my knees between her thighs gave me more leverage, and it would be easy to grab her hips and pull her toward me, or to lean down and transition to missionary.  
  
For the moment I did none of those things. I just focused on her legs, running my hands up and down them, marvelling at how smooth they were. She really did have wonderful legs, and the position we were in just emphasized their pale, slender length. Her thighs were especially soft, and they way they rested on mine saw my dick start to harden.  
  
Rune didn't say anything as I took my time, running my finger up her legs all the way to her feet, tweaking her toes between my thumb and forefingers. They were dainty little things, and her nails were clipped but unpainted. Natural. Then I slid my hands down the back of her legs, ending up cupping her athletic little butt. I squeezed it for a moment, the flesh yielding against my fingers, and Rune let out a low keening sound, full of need.  
  
It was time.  
  
I grabbed her hips and pulled her toward me, pressing down and sandwiching her beneath me. We ended up face to face, her knees on either side of her head. It left her butt up off the mattress, her hips pressed against mine, and my still not-quite-hard cock resting on top of her pussy, her bush tickling my head.  
  
“Are you ready?” I asked.  
  
“Oh yes,” she whispered. “Oh fuck yes.” Her voice was rough, wavering, and delicious to hear.  
  
Foreplay did have a purpose, after all, even if my power meant I rarely had to do too much of it.  
  
I drew my hips backward a bit, then rolled them forward, sliding my dick along the length of her pussy lips. Just like our first time, they were just barely parted, a tiny hint of her pretty pink depths showing between them. Still, they gave way to my dick as it did its work, running up and down her silky skin, coating itself in her juices even as it made her pussy twitch in anticipation, clenching around nothing.  
  
Despite her tight insides and modest little lower lips, she was still soft. Yielding, though not welcoming. Like the rest of her body, her pussy was slender, pale, and trim. Delightful to watch. A gentle pink slit that looked weak, and hid everything inside itself, but contained steel in its depths.  
  
I took a hand off her waist to line myself up, still rocking my hips against hers, making Rune's head loll back against her pillow, tossing side to side as she panted, messing her hair up and scattering it across the bed like a halo.  
  
Then I slid forward, my cock parting her delicate womanhood, and she moaned, her back arching, shuddering as I entered her.  
  
She was still tight, her molten depths clenching around me, resisting my intrusion even as her inner walls tried to suck me in with all their might. Penetrating her wasn't a quick process. I couldn't just hilt myself in one go. But it still wasn't as arduous as the first time. I wasn't spreading her open an inch at a time before withdrawing, moving in by gentle degrees.  
  
This time I went in all in one motion. A long, scalding slide down into her depths, parting her open slowly, splitting her in an ecstasy of squeezing muscles and gasping, shuddering breaths.  
  
Finally I bottomed out, the tip of my cock nudging against her deepest depths, and I stopped, watching as Rune adjusted to my presence. At some point she'd let go of the hair she'd been holding in front of her chest in favor of clutching her blanket hard in her fists, and her small tits were heaving, the soft little things jiggling with each desperate breath.  
  
I took a moment to reposition. Now that I was inside her I didn't need as much control as before. Now I needed power.  
  
My knees slid apart, carefully lowering her back down onto the comforter while keeping her hips tilted up toward me, her legs parted and folded back, ankles crossing naturally above her head. The position left me pressing down on her even harder, pushing her into the bed with my larger size, sandwiching her below me. My dick was pointed mostly down, letting me raise my hips more easily to pull out, and giving me plenty of leverage to slam back in.  
  
If any of it bothered her, either my weight pressing down on her or the way I'd trapped her legs and effectively robbed her of any control over what I was about to do, she didn't show it. All I got from her wanton expression was yearning and anticipation. Her eyes were wide, eyebrows drawn together to create a little crease between them, and her mouth was hanging slightly open, tongue running absently over her lips, maybe in memory of sucking on my thumb.  
  
I didn't waste long staring at her, although it took some serious willpower not to dip down and taste her lips. But I resisted, focusing my attention on her hot, wet hole instead.  
  
I raised my hips up, rocking backward a bit as my dick slurped slowly out of her crushing depths, and her face twisted into something even more lewd, if that were possible.  
  
Had her face looked like this last time? Dripping sweat, beet red, and total unable to deal with the pleasure? If so it was a shame she'd hidden it the entire time.  
  
Still, I drank it in now, the way she let out little involuntary sounds as I slid back into her, how her lips pursed, and her eyes half-closed, staring at me with intense focus and desire. Then her back arched again as I pulled myself back, lips pressing together and eyes squeezing closed, a charming whine pulled out of her.  
  
Her pussy adapted itself to me more quickly this time, and it wasn't much longer before the crushing tightness abated somewhat, her muscles conforming to my shape, molding to me, turning from a burning vice to a soaking, rippling, milking firmness. Every time I pulled out they tightened, sucking at my dick, making soft slurping sounds and leaving my shaft dripping wet as it emerged into the cold air before thrusting in again, returning to what was quickly becoming a perfect sheath.  
  
And as Rune's cunt adapted to me, I adapted to it, speeding up, hitting her deeper and harder, foregoing any shallow teasing or slow, deep grinding. I just pulled up, nearly my entire length removed from her, then thrust back in, balls-deep. It still wasn't quick. I wasn't jackhammering her into the bed or slamming into her with full force. She'd been a virgin just a few weeks ago. She wasn't ready, if her slender, delicate little body ever would be. She was thin and small enough, despite her supermodel legs, that hurting her would always be a genuine concern.  
  
So my thrusts stayed measured, long, and deep. Not a sudden assault, but a building wave, layering the pleasure of each thrust while the last still lingered, flooding her body with it, more and more, without giving her a chance to rest.  
  
I could have done more, of course. I could have nuzzled at her neck, or nibbled her ear, or sucked on her tits, or played with her clit. But that would have been too much, too soon. She wasn't ready. It would have sent the waves of pleasure crashing over her, bringing her to the brink of cumming, but unable to tip over, leaving her to contend with the frustration, the want, the sheer _need_ for release until I was finally ready for my own peak.  
  
No, this way was more calculated. Measured. In and out, my shaft teasing her inner folds, making them clutch at it desperately, sucking and needy. A tight and hot and soaking wet cunt, begging for more, but not quite tipping over the edge into something painful.  
  
It worked. Almost too well. As I accelerated, making the bedsprings squeak, Rune started writhing under me, tossing her head from side to side, spreading her hair across her entire body in messy waves. She babbled breathlessly, half-formed words tumbling out, too slurred to understand. Her blush spread all the way down her chest, her tits puffing up, nipples hardening into little pink nubs.  
  
Both of us were sweating buckets now, beads of it rolling down my body to drip down onto her, pooling around us, soaking the sheets.  
  
Her cunt was a mess, her bush tangling with my more trimmed pubes, clumping together, juices flowing out like a river with every sucking ripple of aching, swollen, pleasured flesh.  
  
I could feel myself getting close, too, way faster than the last time. We both had less restraint than before, moving with abandon. Rune, desperate for me to seed her, pump her full. Me, desperate to fill her greedy little hole to the brim.  
  
“Fuck!” I grit out, teeth clenched. It was always hard to keep control when I hit the peak this fast, but Rune's tightness was unrelenting. I was moving toward a harder, unforgiving high. “Shit, tight cunt! Fuck!”  
  
“Oh Hype!” Rune cried, voice high, thready, her pussy twitching tighter, anticipating what was about to happen. “Oh Hype, oh god! It's so good! It's so good!”  
  
“Gonna cum!” I told her, bearing down, muscles in my hips and back tightening, cock swelling up.  
  
“Yes! Yes! Fuck me! Cum in me!” she screamed.  
  
Our connection grew, my power questing out toward her, scenting for a familiar home inside her. Somewhere it had nestled before. I could feel it. It was always less difficult after the first time. Quicker. Easier, but without the same sense of deep joining. The world didn't fade away as my balls churned, tightening, getting ready to release into Rune. My vision didn't go white or black around the edges, but stayed filled with her wanton face, young and pretty and nearly mindless with lust, eyes shining with tears.  
  
Then it happened. With a deep groan, my whole body tightened at once and I arched forward, blowing myself into her. The pleasure of it was insane, radiating out from our joining, from where my cock spasmed within her, dumping endless loads of cum into her, each pump sending shudders through me. And each time, Rune's pussy contracted, tightening to the limit, shaking as it sucked me into her, greedily guzzling down what felt like gallons and gallons of cum. Beneath me her stomach went taut, and she pressed herself against me hard, nearly lifting herself off the bed as she wailed and shook and came her fucking brains out.  
  
It went on, and on, and on. Rune beneath me, crushed under the pleasure, screaming out in release and entirely out of control of her own body, helpless before the sheer sensation I was flooding her with.  
  
And within it all, travelling down the connection of our entwined bodies, was my power. It flowed out through me, out of my cock, using my cum as a channel to enter Rune's body, soaking into her in pulsing waves, filling her to bursting, crushing her against the inside of her own skin and leaking from every orifice, pure white light flooding out of her, shining on her sweat-slicked body.  
  
Eventually, after an age, it receded, and Rune collapsed down into the bed, lying loose underneath me, her mouth and eyes still wide, gasping like a fish and blinking in incomprehension of what she'd just felt.  
  
I wasn't much better off. My second time with a girl was always less... consuming than the first. Less profound. But in a way that just made it better. It left more room for pleasure.  
  
Plus it didn't knock us out for who-knew-how-long.  
  
I collected myself quickly enough, limbs as tired and aching as always after I fucked someone, and I rolled myself off Rune, my dick slurping out of her abused hole, coming to lie beside her on the bed.  
  
With my weight off her, her legs finally unfolded, slowly arcing through the air to rest against the bed, letting her lie flat for the first time since I'd started pistoning into her.  
  
She said something, too low and mumbled for me to make it.  
  
“Hmm?” I asked.  
  
“So amazing,” she said, a bit of awe in her voice,though it was still quiet and rough from her screaming orgasm. “How did I forget? It was... I knew it was good. But that...”  
  
She trailed off again, and I smiled, an expression that I'd admit was more than a bit smug.  
  
Who didn't enjoy hearing that they'd just blown someone's mind with their dick?  
  
Validating, was what it was.  
  
“Well, there's still one to go, so don't relax too much just yet,” I said.  
  
Her eyes widened as she turned her face toward me, real fear in her eyes. “Already? I'll die!”  
  
I chuckled. “You wouldn't die. But no, not right yet. We both need a bit of time.”  
  
“Oh,” she said, relieved and maybe a bit disappointed. “That's good.”  
  
We both lay there for a minute, just breathing, the sweat on our bodies cooling. Rune started shivering a bit, and I moved closer to her, sliding my arms around her and pulling her toward me. She stiffened in surprise, as I knew she would at any expression of closeness, but she got over it quickly, resting her head on my chest and throwing a leg over my waist, enjoying my warmth.  
  
She hummed then, a contented sound, and her body slowly relaxed into mine.  
  
Post-coital cuddling was a powerful thing.  
  
“So, do you want to talk while we recover?” I asked.  
  
“Um...” she mumbled, head still pressed against me. “Talk about what?”  
  
“It doesn't really matter,” I said. “It could be anything.”  
  
She pulled away from me a bit, her expression turning a bit closed-off. “Do most of your... clients like to talk after a fuck, then? This some kind of service or something?”  
  
“Not really,” I said. “I mean, most of my clients do like to talk after sex, yeah, but that's because most _girls_ like to talk after sex. It's a stereotype for a reason. 'What are you thinking about?'”  
  
I said the last in a high-pitched voice, and Rune snorted out a laugh, letting her head fall to my chest again.  
  
“Yeah, guess so,” she said. “I mean... it's not like I get to talk to people much. Might be nice.”  
  
“Well in that case, what kind of music do you like?” I asked. “That's usually a good place to start getting to know each other.”  
  
“I mean, I dunno,” she said, shrugging against me, her little tits sliding over my arm, nipples still a bit hard and aroused. “I like country, I guess. The good stuff. Garth Brooks and Alabama and shit. Not that new crap. It's too fucking poppy.”  
  
I grinned at her. “Country? Really? I wouldn't have expected it.”  
  
“Yeah, well, my uncle liked it, so I heard it a lot growing up. Guess it grew on me. How about you?”  
  
“Well, promise not to laugh?” I asked.  
  
She shrugged again, then wriggled slightly, making happy little sounds, apparently pleased with the feel of her skin against mine. I took that as an affirmative.  
  
“Seventies prog rock,” I said. “And before you ask, same reason as you. My dad loved it.”  
  
She 'hmm'd in agreement, the sound vibrating through both of us.  
  
“Your turn,” I said, after a moment.  
  
“My turn to what?”  
  
“Ask a question.”  
  
“Oh, um...” she started, then blushed and hid her face against my chest. “What's your favorite position? I mean, you know, like, s-sex position.”  
  
She giggled after that, a sound I really wouldn't expect her to make outside the afterglow.  
  
Still, I smiled. “That's not an easy question,” I said. “There's so many, and I like a lot of them.” I paused and tapped my lip, then grinned. “Tell you what, I'll show you one of my favorites in a little bit.”  
  
She giggled again, and her leg rubbed up and down mine, where she'd thrown it over me. I grabbed her hand in revenge, bringing it to my mouth and kissing her fingers one by one.  
  
Her breathing sped up a bit, and I felt her heart beating against my chest. It would have been easy to heat things up right then, get back to it. But it was too soon. There was a certain order to these things, after all, and it mattered for both health and pleasure.  
  
So rather than reaching down to her waist, or cupping her breast in my hand, or kissing the nape of her neck, I wrapped an arm around her and pulled her a bit closer. She rubbed her head against me like a cat, the movement making the drape of hair that covered us both shift and tickle. But she subsided soon after, relaxing with a sigh.  
  
We kept chatting for a while. Light conversation. What movies we liked. Why any teenager other than her was an idiot. Why all the girls in her private school were stuck-up bitches. Regular teenage girl stuff, minus the talk about clothes.  
  
I did manage to slip in a bit about the kinds of lingerie I liked. We'd have to wait to see if that went anywhere.  
  
There was some horseplay too, but I made sure to keep it to slightly aggressive cuddling. Hugging, running my hands through her hair, massaging her back a bit, rolling over in bed, pulling her to rest on top of me, her hair shrouding both of us and giving us our own little private area. Her hair featured in a lot of it, honestly. I even tested the water a bit by kissing the tip of her nose when we found ourselves face-to-face. She giggled, and gave me another dose of bedroom eyes, which I took as a good sign. But I didn't push it to a full-on kiss just yet.  
  
Eventually I pulled away and stood up. She stayed splayed out on the bed, on her side, one leg crossed over the other, highlighting her flared hips. Her eyes did widen a bit, maybe with some worry.  
  
“Time to hydrate,” I said. “We probably lost five pounds sweating so much. Need to replace it before we go for round two.”  
  
She blushed red again at the mention of 'round two'. I had to admit, I loved the way her milky skin could go so red, so quickly. It was dangerously cute.  
  
“I-I've got some beers?” she said, making it more of a question than a statement.  
  
I wasn't a fan of beer, myself, but the fact that she probably didn't have many visitors, combined with the shy way she said it, made me think she'd got it special. One of those 'just in case' things that nervous teens did before a date. Getting a condom 'just in case' things got heavy. Cleaning your bedroom 'just in case' the girl wanted to come back to your place. Whatever they could think of, in the hopes of impressing a member of the opposite sex.  
  
No matter how little I liked beer, I wasn't about to crush her feelings by turning down that rare 'just in case' that actually worked.  
  
“Sure,” I said, smiling at her. “I'd like that.”  
  
She smiled back at me, happy and relieved, then climbed out of bed, wincing slightly at her sore limbs, legs still shaking a bit, not entirely ready to take her weight. Her pussy was still red and inflamed, too, and the moment she got upright my cum started sliding out, dripping out in thick-ish globs now that it'd had a bit of time to set.  
  
It was, quite frankly, incredibly hot. Especially with the way she shivered when it started dripping down her legs. Her mouth moved without sound, her eyes half-closed.  
  
Then she shook herself, and wobbled over to the door. I joined her, wrapping an arm around her hip to support her, and she leaned her head against me, putting her own arm around me, snuggling close.  
  
We walked to the kitchen like that, all lovey-dovey, an experience that – if I was honest – I was deliberately working toward. But still, I enjoyed it for what it was.  
  
I wasn't any more immune to post-coital cuddling than anyone else, after all. And the more we talked, got to know each other, well, the more we knew each other, and the closer we got.  
  
It hadn't got old after the fiftieth time, or the hundredth, and I doubted I'd be tired of it by the thousanth.  
  
We reached the kitchen and Rune separated from me, swaying toward the fridge, a little trail of cum pattering to the floor behind her. I admired her swaying ass in a kind of detached way. It was nice and tight, high and trim, with just a bit of jiggle. Barely enough to notice. It was especially charming with the red streaks across it from being pounded into the sheets.  
  
She opened the fridge, and I saw that it was almost empty, the only things in it some chinese leftovers, a half-empty pack of sprite, and an untouched six-pack of light beer.  
  
I deliberately didn't scowl. Light beer was, if anything, worse than regular beer. But Rune probably had gone to some real trouble to get it, especially last-minute, so-  
  
Actually, could she have stolen it? That would have been kind of funny.  
  
I schooled my expression as she turned around, and smiled as she passed me a can, popping the tab and taking a long pull from it. Performative, but I'd done worse things before, to make a client happy.  
  
Rune popped her own can with all appearances of relief, and took a much smaller sip than I had, holding the can in both hands. Her mouth screwed up at the taste, but she deliberately took a second, longer drink, doing her best to hide her reaction.  
  
Well, at least I wasn't suffering alone.  
  
We stayed like that for a bit, chatting idly as we drank, me leaned up against the wall by the doorway and Rune resting her butt against the counter. Honestly, the way her butt was kinda squished flat, and how the top lapped a bit over the edge onto the counter...  
  
Plus, watching a cute naked girl screw up her face as she drank beer was... it was something, for sure.  
  
And again, I just couldn't get over the way my cum was splattered all over her sweat-streaked crotch and how it stained her legs with tracks of white. It was something I never got tired of. A physical, undeniable sign of conquest that just reached past my rational mind and punched me in the instincts.  
  
Rune's eyes dipped down, and she quickly raised her can to her mouth, taking hasty gulps without apparently noticing the taste.  
  
Ah, I was getting hard again.  
  
I finish my can in one long pull, then stepped over to her, leaning down and planting my palms against the countertop on either side of her.  
  
She stared at me, then raised her own can and finished it off with a couple of deep gulps that made her throat bob up and down.  
  
I grinned down at the sight. Honestly I'd never been much for blowjobs, and the less said about anal the better. Maybe it was something to do with my power, but my dick was always attracted straight for the pussy as if by some kind of magnetic field. But even so there was something about a woman's mouth and her slender neck when she was greedily sucking on something that really did it for me.  
  
Once her can was discarded, I reached down to her, trailing my hands down her body, making her shiver. I ran them over her stomach, her back, down her sides, and through her hair before finally settling them on her waist. Then I lifted her up and dropped her butt on the counter, stepping between her legs, using my knees to pry them gently apart. It didn't take much effort. Once she saw what I was aiming for she couldn't spread them fast enough.  
  
“I said I'd show you one of my favorite positions,” I said, sliding my hands around her and squeezing her ass, gently kneading the flesh, the elastic skin stretching and the soft mass deforming around my roaming fingers.  
  
“Yeah?” Rune asked, half-breathless already as she squirmed against my fingers, pushing her ass harder against my grip. The movement made her hair drape and swish around her, and I let it, even as it started getting in the way. It was probably her best feature, aside from her legs. Or her perfect pussy, maybe.  
  
She had a lot of good features.  
  
“Yeah,” I said, lowering my voice, making it a bit more seductive, fitting the mood. “Tilt your hips up a bit,” she did, quickly. “Good girl. Now spread yourself for me.”  
  
She shuddered slightly at that, and I gave her ass another squeeze, making her bite her lip and lower her head, looking up at me with pleading eyes through her curtain of hair.  
  
I was playing on her inexperience, now. Pushing her toward something that must have still felt embarrassing, maybe shameful to her. But that was the point. She'd offered herself to me already, and after the first time tonight we'd become closer. By the time we'd been drinking together she'd barely been paying attention to her own nudity. This was the next step. Getting her to take an active part in her own ravishing. Not just letting it happen, but inviting it.  
  
“Do it,” I said, leaning closer, whispering to her, looking her right in the eyes. “Do it for me.”  
  
She shuddered again, pushing her chest out, her small breasts thrust forward a bit. Then her hands slowly lifted off the counter and made their way between her legs.  
  
She wasn't practiced at this, of course. Just twitched when her fingers touched her mound, and let out a little sound as they brushed downward through her bush, moving by feel, her eyes still locked on mine. She fumbled around, each touch staining her fingertips white and making her twitch or moan. Then she finally found purchase, fingertips just inside her entrance, and she spread them apart.  
  
Of course her fingers slipped, and her pussy slid closed with a tiny, wet little sound.  
  
She scowled, but I just leaned in closer, my mouth next to her ear. “You're doing good. Keep going. Open yourself to me.”  
  
She shivered, goosebumps rising on her arms, rippling down her body, and she gnawed at her lip, eyebrows knit together. I raised a hand up to her face, brushing her hair away, then cupping her cheek. She leaned into it, as she had before, and her fingers resumed their work.  
  
It wasn't easy for her, and that was part of the point. She had to work at it a bit, wiping away my cum – though she didn't end up licking any off her fingers, which was a shame – in order to give her the ability to hold her pussy open.  
  
She got it on the third try, pussy lips pulled apart as far as they could go, opening her cute little gash as wide as it had ever gone. Her insides really were a perfect, pretty pink. A color as delicate as the petals of her fleshy flower. They were still gummed up with cum, too, and strands of her own arousal stretched from one side to the other, more dripping out every second. Her tiny little clit was sticking up at the top, free of its hood, the first time I'd seen it, and her pussy was already clenching rhythmically, sucking at the air, impatient for me to fill it up.  
  
“I'm, I'm open,” Rune stuttered, taking quick, shallow breaths. “I'm open for, you, Hype.”  
  
“Good,” I whispered into her ear. “You're doing so good. Now tell me, what are you open for? What do you want in there? What's going to fill up that greedy pussy of yours?”  
  
She sucked in a breath at that, arching up toward me, rubbing her cheek against mine, and her fingers trembled, pressing hard against the soft flesh of her pussy lips.  
  
“Oh god, your p-penis. Your dick,” she said, her voice rising, still rubbing her cheek against mine, her hair trailing between us like silk. “I want your dick! I want it in my-my-my greedy pussy! My greedy little pussy! I want your dick to fill it all up!”  
  
“Then touch it,” I said. “Put your hand on my dick, and put it where it's meant to go.”  
  
She moaned, then. I'd never been the best at dirty talk, usually too caught up in the act to really give it my attention, but it was working for her.  
  
She didn't hesitate this time, taking one hand off her pussy, leaving it half-spread, pulling to one side, the slit gaping in a crescent moon shape. Then she grabbed my cock, her tiny, slender fingers wrapping around it. Her heart was beating hard enough that I could feel it though her hand, and her palm was already sweaty, body getting into gear, heating up, preparing itself.  
  
She pulled on me a bit too hard, but I just went with it, pressing forward even as I used my grip on her ass to slide her half-off the counter to meet me.  
  
Of course she didn't line me up right, and the head of my cock slid off her slick lips, ending with our hips together, my dick pressed against her belly. She whined, a frustrated, embarrassed sound, trying to pull away from me slightly.  
  
I didn't let her, squeezing her ass, keeping her where she was and pulling my hips back.  
  
“You're doing fine,” I said. “You're doing so good. Try again, my good girl.”  
  
To her credit, or maybe because of how hot and bothered she was, she didn't hesitate, grabbing my dick again and pulling me toward her entrance more slowly. She took a bit of time, rubbing the tip of my dick around in circles, bucking gently against it, trying to find where it would fit.  
  
Then, when it finally slotted into place, I moved forward, and Rune gasped, mouth dropping open in surprise. I pushed, still not hard and fast, but with steady force, still holding her ass in both hands, squeezing it tight as she rolled her hips, working in unconscious desire to have me reach as many parts of her as possible.  
  
I obliged her. Before, I'd kept things simple. In and out. Deep, long strokes that stimulated but probably wouldn't have been enough on their own, without the help of my power. This time I threw in some variations. I went deep, and stayed there, grinding my hips in circles to match her own, rolling around inside her. Then I pulled back and teased at her entrance, once or twice even pulling out entirely, just to dip back in and do it again.  
  
The position she was in, the grip I had on her ass, she had almost no control. She couldn't pull away, and there wasn't a mattress under her this time to give her some, well, give. All she could do was take my dick as deep or as shallow as I wanted to give it to her. She couldn't even shake her hips, all she could do was roll them side to side, rocking them to get whatever extra shred of feeling possible.  
  
I was in control, maybe more than I had been before, and I used all my tricks to exploit the situation.  
  
And Rune responded with enthusiasm. She couldn't control the pace, or the depth, but she still responded as much as she could. Her legs went behind me, ankles crossed behind my back, squeezing tight, trying to pull me as deeply into her depths as she could. Her arms likewise wrapped around my shoulders, one gripping my back and the other on the back of my head, leaving her own head to burrow into my neck, her drool running down my chest and my ears filled with her wanton, slutty moans and half-formed begging.  
  
“Please, please,” she muttered, in time with my thrusts. “Oh please, please. Oh! Please! Oh!”  
  
I wanted to go faster, to give her what she was begging for, but I held back.  
  
The second time was... dangerous. My power was roused right from the start, spooling out of me and into that core of energy and cum that still rested in Rune's womb. It heightened things, made sensations and emotions more intense, and at the same time _harder_. My dick fairly tingled, already twitching, feeling like it could blow at any second, half out of control. I knew Rune felt the same, because I could feel it, sort of. I could feel her pleasure at second-hand, a faint echo of what it felt like to her, but there all the same.  
  
And what she was feeling was insane. Every time I pierced her, her whole body went tight, vibrating like a pluckedstring, hot light shooting out from her pussy to spread up and down her body, making her legs and arms tingle, half numb and half hyper-sensitive, every touch of my skin on hers searing into her. It should have been painful, but she couldn't get enough, rubbing herself all over me, pressing every inch of available skin against me.  
  
And my hands, what they were doing to her ass...  
  
It was like a taser, electric, every squeeze shocking her and making her twitch uncontrollably.  
  
I was no better off, pulling her to me with all my strength, crushing the air out of her, rendering her pleading gasps into breathless begging, mouth moving without thought, chanting out her whorish mantra of more, more more.  
  
More of my dick, slamming into her, uninhibited now, without any way for me to moderate myself.  
  
More of the feeling that rushed into her, pooling in her womb before blasting through her, driving away any thoughts.  
  
More of my hands on her, more of my harsh breath on her neck, more of the feeling of her hair falling around us both, tickling us, a shroud to hide us from the world. We were cocooned together, becoming one, stuck together, and there was nothing in the world that could release us from it until it was finished.  
  
Rune drew back, suddenly, staring at me, her eyes empty and blank, full of nothing but want. Then she leaned forward, and her lips locked onto mine.  
  
It wasn't a kiss. Not really. It wasn't done out of any sense of closeness or romantic feeling. It was empty need, a base desire of her pummelled, overwhelmed brain to get just a drop more of the searing pleasure that tore through her, ripping her apart.  
  
But her lips still parted against mine, and her tongue invaded my mouth, lashing against mine, and my instincts responded.  
  
I leaned down, bending her backward below me, and my tongue duelled with hers, even as my cock pistoned in and out, in and out, my hips slapping against hers with force that would have been painful, if everything we were feeling wasn't pleasure. The wet sound of our kiss, leaking drool everywhere, joined the sucking pops of our lower joining, each thrust inward met with a spray of pussy juice, raining down like a flood to pool around my feet, almost enough to make me lose my grip on the tile floor.  
  
Then, without either of us realizing it was happening, we once again reached our peak.  
  
Rune's hand knotted tight into my hair, her other clawing against my back, leaving bleeding scratches even as she moaned like a whore into my mouth. I slammed my hips into hers one last time, my dick achingly swollen, too tight in her tiny fuckhole, pushing so deep into her that I felt like it had to come out of her mouth.  
  
And I erupted. Exploded. I went nova, and Rune joined me, unbearable heat erupting out from her core as a tidalwave of jizz blasted through her, flooded every inch of her womb to bursting. But the light of my power didn't stop there. It rushed through her, filling her blood and burrowing into her bones, rushing in to fill every gap, making every one of the cells of her body scream out in ecstatic agony  
  
It was a chain reaction. The first mammoth load, earlier, had just laid the groundwork that the second was exploiting now. Like planting a bomb, only to set it off later.  
  
It kept going, every speck of my power shooting into her through my dick, leaving me drained and hollow, spilling into her and filling her up, too much, too tight, so much that I felt like her brains would leak out her ears, forced out of her skull by the power filling her up and leaving no room for anything else.  
  
Eventually we both collapsed, me slumping down loose and empty on top of her, and her too full and swollen and red and hot and wet and fucking _dripping_ with my cum to even be able to think. Just shut down, blue-screened, totally scrambled.  
  
And this wasn't even as far as we could go.  
  
But a third time in one night... well, that went beyond dangerous, especially this early.  
  
I came back to myself first, my power filling me back up in a slow trickle now that it had expended itself inside Rune. As always, I ached, and my legs shook, but I stood.  
  
Rune was... too far gone. She was lying across the counter, her head and arms dangling off the far side, her legs loose and spread wide on my side. Her sex stood out, red and swollen as a tomato, and there was already bruising on her thighs from how hard I'd been going at her. She was completely covered in cum, strings and splatters going all the way up her belly, and all over her hips and thighs. It glopped out of her stretched, gaping pussy, sliding down to the floor in thick blobs, each one triggered by a contracting of her cunt, still clenching and unclenching, her body not yet realizing that the sex was finished.  
  
I took in a deep breath, my cock rising up again. It was quite the sight, and it wasn't like I _couldn't_ fuck her again. I'd be ready to go long before she came back to her senses. I could just take her again, any way I wanted. It would be... glorious.  
  
I shook my head sharply, looking away.  
  
No. Not yet. It wasn't time yet.  
  
I turned away, leaving Rune so thoroughly fucked that she probably wouldn't be able to remember her own name for days, and made my way back to the bedroom to get dressed. Then I looked down at myself, to see that I was just as cum-stained as Rune, and diverted to the bathroom.  
  
She wouldn't begrudge me a shower, I was sure. If she was even capable of realizing I had taken one, anyway.  
  
I was half tempted to drag Rune in with me, clean her off and maybe tuck her into bed. After changing the sheets, of course. But we weren't that close yet. And besides, I couldn't allow myself the temptation.  
  
So I showered, then got dressed, and took my payment from Rune's wallet. A bit scummy, but a common enough practice with sex work.  
  
Then I left.  
  
I knew, though, that I'd be hearing from Rune again. Probably sooner rather than later.


End file.
